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At least we’re left in peace at last,
It’s good to be alone,
With none to curse us for the past
And sins we can’t atone.

Hear the women sadly call
Their rapists to come back,
As out of smoking ruins they crawl
And still all shame do lack.

For what’s been lost I’ll shed no tear,
But for dawn sit and wait,
As what was good I have no fear
We can it recreate.

On no field we found defeat, 
Nor did this fate invite,
It was the work of our elite 
Who were so anti-white.

For us they had such ill will
And for our town such hate,
With foes they did it overfill
To guarantee this fate.

We were forced our land to share
With people cruel and crude,
Who for culture did not care
Nor could show gratitude.

Statues fell and buildings burned,
Our sires were surely shamed.
So much from us they could have learned
But we instead were blamed.

On our plenty long they fed
And things of us command,
But now it seems they all have fled
To find a richer land.

Now because our wealth’s been drained,
They’ve left us here to die.
No longer will they be detained
And have us bid good-bye.

The silence all around’s so sweet
With no screams or gunfire.
The error we should not repeat
Is such folk host or hire.

When they hear we do survive,
I’m sure they’ll soon return,
And when they at our gates arrive
Beg us to show concern.

But the city we rebuild
Will serve our sons alone,
With other’s seed it won’t be filled,
They’ve cities of their own. 

To female pleas we’ll block our ears,
Nor seek to them appease,
When they beg us shedding tears
To let in refugees.

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  • Charlie Chisholm

    Charlie Chilsom is the author of a children's book, A People Called American, which can be purchased at The White People's Press,