This is a story
of them,
of them,
the ones
from long ago;
from 1779,
when Scotland let loose
a swarm
that left mother Scotland
for a land
called Cape Breton
and a
place called Nova Scotia
(its story I shall tell in detail later).
The land is known as Turtle Island,
a victim of colonization by
grandparents,
an awkward uncle, and spinster aunt,
who, together, talk of
how they faced hardships,
the kind white people brag of
(Quebec was conquered
by Highlanders,
if you didn't know).
MacDonald, one of them,
was a racist, so shaft him:
from his speeches
and from his actions,
his work is detrimental -
unleashing 100 years of butchery
he wasn't an accident of the time.
Make him pay - forget him
so that no mining
in the history books will find him
(he's different from the Cape Breton
Macdonald - not the same guy).
Of the first Prime Minister,
be joyful in renouncing him,
a blight on our history,
the architect of genocide
and craftsman of exploitation
(I write to make
Reconciliation a household word).
