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64 SONGS OF THE COWBOYS |
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Living by hunting and fishing, raising their Indian
corn, High in the Sierra Madres, 't was there the Yaquis
were born.
Loud in their childish prattle, playing with sticks
and stones; Each one a future warrior born to defend their
homes; Sons of Spartan mothers, reared in those mountains
high, Satisfied with a peaceful life just as you or I.
Crooning to their papooses just like your mam-
mie or mine, Squaws of a hardy nation, stoics and last of their
line; With every man's hand against them, driven from
crag to fen, God in His mercy defend them, for still they are
mothers of men.
From the days of Don Velasquez, Alvarado, and
Hernan Cortez, ■ Victoria Pednaza, Santana, and Porfirio Diaz, They've driven them into slavery through Jalisco
to Michoacan, Through Guerrero Oaxaca Campeche to the juter
fields of Yucatan.
Save them till Montezuma, God of the Indian race, Who, according to ancient tradition, shall some day come out of the East, |
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