By the Monongahela

Drifting about by the Monongahela
Gun smoke and the scent of gore
Victorious howls ripping the air
Into black nothingness, dead eyes stare
Battlefield spoils are plucked from the slain

Muskets, shot, powder and swords
Food, liquor and captive camp followers
Wounded soldiers, faces blackened for the stake
Continuing on with Braddock a fatal mistake
A captured Cherokee scout singing his death song

He should of turned back with those other
Wise older warriors, returning to Tennessee
Young and eager for the honors of war
In a land he had never treaded before
Stunned by a musket ball grazing his head

Like the other British and Long Knife kin
The French pleaded for the Cherokee’s life
To pile him with gifts and set him free
Blood enemies, the Shawnee refused clemency
The French had hoped to court Cherokee alliance

Bound to a tree and scalped alive
Through hideous torture he sang his song
Young and never having slain a foe
Into the world of spirits he would go
Never crying out under their knives and brands

A whole supply train the British had left
Wagon after wagon on the road they cut
Leaving it behind they went on the run
Led by a Long Knife chief called Washington
Bearing the wounded General Braddock away

Donning a slain officer’s hat and scarlet coat
A drunken Potawatomi mimics marching step
Deep into the stores of rum they did find
Laughing, some of the Ottawa fell in behind
Quite mirthful in their easy victory

Tonight a celebration at Fort Duquesne
To honor all present and the friendly fallen
Cheering fellow fighters at this given chance
As they had stopped cold the British advance
Keeping the Ohio country from under the Union Jack

Casks of ale, rum and strong corn whisky
Many green glass bottles of brandy and wine
The Ottawa and Potawatomi put on a victory dance
In honor of their old allies from far away France
This wild celebration went on through the night