Indian man of times long and past,
O'er the north-east forest his shadow was cast,
Once a god of war and win,
Brave Mohawk leader of the best warrior men,
From the wolf familly his prominance is bread,
A great Ojibwa chief under his tomahawk lay cold and dead,
The great warriors head tilted back in victor call,
His hair long and braded he stood straight and tall,
He raised his tomahawk to the sun of suns,
The way his braves had fought could have beaten the huns,
A bared brave chest bares scars of past victories won,
A brave of honor, man of five years not near from done,
The brown skin tought over muscle thick and good,
But the most evil predator lurked sullin in hood,
When from forest came le fronce with long rifle poised,
Mohawk versus fronce of old war had noised,
The mohawk braves scattered for cincielment,
The unfair assailent coming there evil bent,
Forward jumps the brave, tomahawk hel high,

Imortal in his sight, honor if he die,

La fronce stands straight horror stricken, scared,
Power look in eye teeth white and bared,
Plunged forth the weapon in french leaders chest,
He was the quickest, the fastest, bravest, best,
He removed his dagger before french reaction,
Jabbed in the ribs french suffers reporcusions,
Mohawk braves from darkened forest spring,
To defeat this violating writhing thing,

Not a moment had passed before more french were layed flat,

The Mohawks moved with the agility of hunter cat,
Victory for the french was thought to be obsurd,
Untill the crack from the rear was so clearly heard,
A warrior struck in chest sailed like stone to ground,
The war then sieced, he observed what he found,
The brave touched the hole, the blood poored into his hand,
Here in this peacefull, soft, still, land,
His strength failed him his eyes rolled back-STOP, he thought,
The war resumed now sparked by deadened friend still hot,
The shots range out clear now, in the crisp cool air,
The wind of strength flew in his black, braided hair,
Soon all braves save one had met horrible deaths, now still,
But the warrior brave quickened to kill and kill,
One on six the mohawk still fought,
Warrior code of honor his priniciples he was tought,
Le fronce moved one man behind mohawk fury warrior,
He raised his rifle, he wanted to be the death courier,
Slam, the butt struck him full on tinted shoulder blade,
Le fronce fired single musket shot in the left shoulder, his sould begins fade,
The Iroquois brave swung right and true,
Tomahawk to head, dead was the man in blue,
Another shot in now exposed chest,
Tescalance was good, no he was the best,
His knife plunged deep into the neck of another,
Fronce did reel as he thought of his mother,
Braves left foot kicked high hitting away mortal gun,
Tomahawk to head knife to neck, blue man was gone,
One more shot clean and clear,
Le fronce the only thing feeling of fear,
Le fronce man takes to his legs and air,
If he saw what was in store for him he'd shed this care,
Right hand, high to low, the tomahawk sailed true,
Struck terror into the remaining two,
Into the spine below screaming head,
He sailed to ground like old sunken lead,
New blood flowed from braves stomach up and right,
His eyes full of fire, rage and bright,
He plunged the knife in man to deep to recover,
This was the man, killer of his brother,
The last blue man in terror of indian Juggernout,
How could mortal man as he had seen successfully fought,
Now struggle mortaly fierce did the last two engage,
They were as if trapped in closing death cage,
The last shot was muffled and was accompanied with demise,
The enemy was gone, dead, here thier bodies lie,
From the wolf familly his prominance is bred,
A great le fronce chief under his hands lay dead,

The failing warriors head tilted back in victor call,
His hair black and red so straight he stood and tall,
He raised his hands to the sun of suns now red,
The way he had fought had layed la fronce cold and dead,
A bared brave chest bares scars of past victories won,
A brave of honor and it's here he's done.