You have stolen my father's spirit, but his body I
  only claim.
You have killed him, but you shall not dare to
  touch him now he's dead.
You have cursed, and called him a Cattle Thief,
  though you robbed him first of bread—
Robbed him and robbed my people—look there, at
  that shrunken face,
Starved with a hollow hunger, we owe to you and
  your race.
What have you left to us of land, what have you
  left of game,
What have you brought but evil, and curses since
  you came?
How have you paid us for our game? how paid us
  for our land?
By a book, to save our souls from the sins you
  brought in your other hand.
Go back with your new religion, we never have
  understood
Your robbing an Indian's body, and mocking his
  soul with food.
Go back with your new religion, and find—if find
  you can—
The honest man you have ever made from out a
  starving man.
You say your cattle are not ours, your meat is not
  our meat;
When you pay for the land you live in, we'll pay
  for the meat we eat.
Give back our land and our country, give back our
  herds of game;