The Pilgrims ate the natives
They invited in to feast
In snarling chomp and salivation
After they eat
They refuse to clean up the mess.
There is no protection
No way this side of the bar
To keep the Pilgrims starved
Or the sharpened teeth held far
From the little ones they carve.
How uncaring blinded eyes can be,
And ears that cannot hear,
Napkins to protect their visage
As they chew through salted tears
And swallow down the least of these.