They came and stepped on
Our sacred land
Took our way of life
Before they took our hand

And the huts and houses
That we built
They burned them down
And had our people killed

And to this day
We still don't understand
The wicked ways
Of the crooked man

They do not listen
They do not see
They ask no questions
To you or to me

But maybe one day
They will learn
That not all bridges
Must be burned

And all you white men
I've got to say
We were here first
When your ships drifted away

And still we will
Make our final stand
When you return
To your own native land