Those Happy Hunting Grounds

We burnt another forest, boys,
and watched those silly Indians run
like just so many clockwork toys –
Believe me, it was lots of fun

and the remaining ones were shot
or raped and later hacked in two;
they were a pretty sorry lot. –
no harm in killing off a few…

Another whiskey, barman, please -
make that a double. It’s a shame
we couldn’t possibly appease
them with some dough – but who’s to blame?

They simply were in progress’ way
and occupied some vital space;
we told them off - they chose to stay
and so we opened up the chase.

No thank you. After all that smoke
I couldn’t smoke a cigarette –
the very thought just makes me choke;
you know, my eyes are burning yet.

My chest’s sore, too. Amidst the fray
one of those guys ran into me –
as my machete spun away
I had to hide behind a tree…

And then I - we - it was all flames
and from within heart-rending cries…
We just stood grinning, calling names
and aiming at those frightened eyes –

The boss said no one should survive
and while he spat and zipped his fly
a pregnant woman, still alive,
was butchered up and left to fry.

But first they took her silver rings.
They were too good for her, they said,
the bitch just had no right to things
for human use, alive or dead –

She really had a pretty face.
I still can see her features freeze…
As she was trying to embrace
her child to be, they cut her knees.

Those devils, dancing through the glare
went on and on. The Indians fell,
a blur of grime and gore in there,
a burning nightmare, worse than hell –

They gave me downers. They won’t make
me find the sleep I need to find
but as I can’t go on awake
I’ll keep on drinking till I’m blind…

I cannot leave that forest’s bounds,
the dying nor their ceaseless dance –
the sound of cackling fire hounds
me down… Please… Can’t I get a chance?