walked the walk....talked the talk
an indian complete
with white men, he had tangled
and he went down to defeat
dad says i'm his namesake
his red blood was ingrained
the heritage of my grandpa
was passed on down the chain

years go by...i'm lookin' through a tattered magazine
and there's my long dead grandpa, on the pages in-between

the tribe was old...the white man made them move, i'm told
my grandpa was a seminole....grandpa was a seminole
the tribe was old...the white man made them move, i'm told
my grandpa was a seminole....grandpa was a seminole

his face had this restlessness
and i was thinkin' about his stress
i was sad he'd passed away
he looked like quite a guy
he was shaken by abuse
he never did have a chance to choose
white men made them leave, you see
ran out the whole damn tribe

the left the sunny weather...the land they loved so much
they were uprooted needlessly...they left their palm-thatched huts

the tribe was old...the white man made them move, i'm told
my grandpa was a seminole....grandpa was a seminole
the tribe was old...the white man made them move, i'm told
my grandpa was a seminole....grandpa was a seminole

i will never understand
just why they had to leave their land
to oklahoma, some had gone
in florida, some still live on
they were put...through the mill
and some did not survive it
the white man needed much more room
they liked to live in private

a part of me has just been ripped...the photo of my kin, i clipped
this picture...i've been eyein'...so sad...it makes me feel like cryin'

the tribe was old...the white man made them move, i'm told
my grandpa was a seminole....grandpa was a seminole
the tribe was old...the white man made them move, i'm told
my grandpa was a seminole....grandpa was a seminole