Pennywhistle Canyon

[couchgrouch]

Pennywhistle CanyonThe wind called out and whistled, through that red canyon rockcarrying Cheyenne hist'ry, like a majestic hawkthat northern reservation, lived ragged and poorwhile a mining town nearby, lived like kings off silver orebut lately there'd been trouble, trucks had been hijackedrumors said some redskin, wanted his country backas sunrise shined that morning, a shadow walked a narrow ridgethe future was a mountain, and Blackwing saw the edgeof Pennywhistle Canyonthat once played for the ghost dancewhere a proud heart's best companionis the war cry and the lancethere's one way in that canyon, and but two ways outyou can leave how you entered, or send your soul to the cloudsthe law had their suspicions, but nothing they could provehow some of those poor natives, bought new coats and patched their roofswhen more goods were stolen, the law had set a snareBlackwing fled to his canyon, and they tracked him therehe gazed out from the cliffside, to where he belongedhe knew that soon his spirit, would surrender to the songof Pennywhistle Canyonthat once played for the ghost dancewhere a proud heart's best companionis the war cry and the lancethe sheriff saw him freefall, off the cliff that dayand he told ev'ry paper, wolves dragged him awaybut he had suspicions, whether that rebel was deadwhen he looked up that morning, dark wings soared overheadof Pennywhistle Canyonthat once played for the ghost dancewhere a proud heart's best companionis the war cry and the lance(c)2004 Robert George