First Kill Me Before You Take Possession

I Have Killed, Robbed, And Injured Too Many White Men To Believe In A Good Peace. They Are Medicine, And I Would Eventually Die A Lingering Death. I Had Rather Die On The Field Of Battle. Look At Me, See If I Am Poor, Or My People Either. The Whites May Get Me At Last, As You Say, But I Will Have Good Times Till Then. You Are Fools To Make Yourselves Slaves To A Piece Of Fat Bacon, Some Hard-tack, And A Little Sugar And Coffee.

I Hardly Sustain Myself Beneath The Weight Of White Men's Blood That I Have Shed. The Whites Provoked The War; Their Injustices, Their Indignities To Our Families, The Cruel, Unheard Of And Wholly Unprovoked Massacre At Fort Lyon ... Shook All The Veins Which Bind And Support Me. I Rose, Tomahawk In Hand, And I Have Done All The Hurt To The Whites That I Could.

I Will Remain What I Am Until I Die, A Hunter, And When There Are No Buffalo Or Other Game I Will Send My Children To Hunt And Live On Prairie, For Where An Indian Is Shut Up In One Place His Body Becomes Weak.

Every Seed Is Awakened, And All Animal Life.

It Does Not Take Many Words To Tell The Truth