Massasoit lay sick in his wigwam
A visit from Winslow the friendliest pilgrim
They smoked and they prayed shared some medicine
Massasoit recovered Winslow became governor
The English, once dozens, now numbered in thousands
With livestock and gunships in harbors and houses
The old fishing waters were vanquished of natives
Pigs ate their crops as their lands were invaded
Massasoit saw all this unfold
It wasn't his fault that he lived to grow old
Fathers are friends but their fathers have sons
Born to the land under kingdom and corn
Metacomet came up in a world
Where Harvard had dropouts and Boston had brogue.
These people were taking whatever they could.
His father was blind but his wife understood.
Josiah Winslow a servant to fate
Grew up to govern, but he did not graduate
As a child in Plymouth, he played with Tisquantum
But he grew to distrust them. Found them meager and wanting.
Then an Indian Christian anglophile convert
Tested some boundaries and he got himself murdered
Three Wampanoags would hang in the square
Their ropes were the fuse for King Philip's War
Metacomet led victories vicious
Winslow official led farmer's militias
Might have been different were not for attrition
People were starving for farming and fishing
Metacomet was butchered on the swamps of Rhode Island
They shipped off his parts to the ports of New England
From a pike in Plymouth he watched twenty years
Saw no one remembered the Thanksgiving feast