Lawless men, they were to blame.
From the Georgia line they came.
Burning, killing, stealing slaves,
From the Seminole Indian braves.
Major Dade and his hundred
Were marching along,
By the edge of a thick swamp.
It was shortly past dawn.
Through scrub and palmetto
Their harnesses did ring.
They were marching from Tampa
On the way to Fort King.
Oh, the sun's rays were burning,
Dade's temper was short
His scout had deserted
Somewhere to the north.
The men had a feeling,
The land was too quiet.
They held their guns tightly
Their eyes showed their fright
Well, it came of a sudden,
That wild cry of craze,
From the screaming throats
Of the Seminole braves.
Black smoke, thudding bullets
From Indian guns.
I'll tell you, the Dade
Massacre had begun.
Major Dade, he fell first
With a deep mortal wound.
'Twas from Jumper's rifle
That he met his doom.
His men were all killed
Without mercy or plea.
This legend lives ever
In our history.
Now the land is all serene,
There's a marker at the scene.
Where Major Dade sleeps
Among his hundred men.
From the Georgia line they came.
Burning, killing, stealing slaves,
From the Seminole Indian braves.
Major Dade and his hundred
Were marching along,
By the edge of a thick swamp.
It was shortly past dawn.
Through scrub and palmetto
Their harnesses did ring.
They were marching from Tampa
On the way to Fort King.
Oh, the sun's rays were burning,
Dade's temper was short
His scout had deserted
Somewhere to the north.
The men had a feeling,
The land was too quiet.
They held their guns tightly
Their eyes showed their fright
Well, it came of a sudden,
That wild cry of craze,
From the screaming throats
Of the Seminole braves.
Black smoke, thudding bullets
From Indian guns.
I'll tell you, the Dade
Massacre had begun.
Major Dade, he fell first
With a deep mortal wound.
'Twas from Jumper's rifle
That he met his doom.
His men were all killed
Without mercy or plea.
This legend lives ever
In our history.
Now the land is all serene,
There's a marker at the scene.
Where Major Dade sleeps
Among his hundred men.
envoyé par Alessandro - 6/4/2010 - 11:53
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Il testo della canzone è pubblicato nel libro di Will McLean “Cross The Shadows Of My Face” (1980). La canzone è presente nella raccolta intitolata “Will McLean - Florida's Black Hat Troubadour” del 1990.
Testo trovato su Mudcat Café
Nella seconda metà del 18mo gli spagnoli, dopo averne quasi completamente sterminato i nativi, cedettero la Florida agli inglesi. Molti gruppi di nativi del sud-est, sospinti dalla pressione dell’uomo bianco, si trasferirono in questa terra ormai disabitata, insieme a molti afro-americani che fuggivano dai padroni schiavisti. Fu da questo incontro che nacquero gli “indiani neri”, i “black seminoles”… I Seminole della Florida furono sempre nemici giurati degli americani, combattendoli prima a fianco degli inglesi e poi, quando la Florida tornò temporaneamente sotto l’influenza degli spagnoli, insieme a questi ultimi. Le guerre si succedettero incessantemente a partire dal 1814. Nel 1818 Andrew Jackson, poi presidente USA, invase la Florida e la strappò agli spagnoli. Il destino dei Seminole sembrava segnato. Fu stabilito che sarebbero stati tutti deportati in una riserva nell’Arkansas ma, quando fu il momento, i Seminole decisero di resistere ed attaccarono.
Questo brano di Will McLean racconta dell’episodio che segnò l’inizio della “Second Seminole War”, una delle guerre indiane più feroci mai combattute dall’esercito degli USA contro un gruppo di nativi. Il 28 dicembre 1835 i Seminole tesero un’imboscata ad una colonna dell’esercito al comando del maggiore Francis L. Dade, massacrandola quasi completamente… La guerra si protrasse fino al 1842 e poi scoppiò di nuovo tra il 1855 e il 1858… Alla fine non restò che un centinaio di Seminole in tutta la Florida.