PICHER OKLAHOMA
DAVE THE POET

Have you ever heard, Of Picher Oklahoma
Through two world wars, It fed this country lead
So bullets could fly, And people could die
Now its rivers and streams, All run blood red

Big mining, Made lots of money
While locals, Toiled underground
Then walked away, Leaving hell to pay
Healthy children, Can’t be found
Ask the E.P.A., If cleanup’s underway
While chad, Is the ghost of the town
Piled high, In heavenly mounds
The promise, Of more sick or dead
Silently the rivers and streams, Still run blood red

The land was given, To the tribe of the Quapaw
Their prairie home, They were forced to leave
Instead of roaming free, Like you and me
The nation’s, Number one super-fund sight
Poisoned and dying, Is where they sleep tonight

The place you were born, Is always special
Everybody, Knows your name
How can man, Rape the land
Eliminate, The people
Say big business, Is the name of the game