I am a 72 year old white man. I cannot go out to join a protest as I am currently in self-isolation so my protest is in the poem below.
The natives are revolting Carruthers old boy wind blows, rain falls but the blood spilt on the land
is never blown or washed away.
Cherokee, Apache, Arapaho and Sioux…..
Hey Joe where you going with that gun in your hand,
to wipe those painted savages clean off this land.
The natives are revolting Carruthers,
well Fortesque you know what to do,
just pop out and shoot a few,
put the rest in chains and throw them on the boats
and make sure you beat a Zulu or two
I gotta chop down cane or pick a bale o’ cotton.
The money lust English are on tour again.
The sun beats down but there’s no bright new day
At night the cross is lit for the murdering KKK.
Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves.
The stately homes of England were built on the bones of slaves.
Colonialism, Empire and Commonwealth to boot
The great English history of pillage, slaughter , loot.