About this song...

This song comes from inside of me, because I am a quarter Indian. My grandmothers maiden name was Eagle, and I believe she was Catawba, though her grandparents fled the east coast, and came to live I believe with the Chippewa tribe.

The story of how we cheated and stole from the Indian is legendary, and a sad spot on our nation's history. This story I wrote about a fictional character, Joe Creed, because I could see my own self acting in the manner described in the song. When a entire people's life is uprooted, and destroyed, you defend yourself. As against war and killing as I am, if your attacked, you better fight back. Just to clear my concience here, I'll ask you one thing. Why aren't we letting people be free to run their countries and lives that way now?

We better watch out...we've made a lot of Joe Creed's right now.

                    Joe Creed

Copyright (c) 2002 Carl Henry.

Joe Creed lived in the valley, on the reservation land
Joe Creed he was raised up with a six gun in his hand
Went on a raiding party when he was just thirteen
And his grandpa cried when the buffalo died
And a hatred grew in Joe Creed

Joe Creed was moved to anger, when he saw his mama die
From mostly malnutrition, cause the white man always lied
They stole the food that was theirs to eat, they stole their very lives
So Joe Creed spoke to the spirits,
And by the six gun he'd surely die


Joe Creed, oh Joe Creed
Your brothers spirits crying out in need
Joe Creed, oh Joe Creed
Let the spirit of the wolf, set you free

Joe Creed was only nineteen when he rode down to the town
Got a job cleanin horse manuer, that laid down in the barns
He heard "stinkin injun", and "dirty rotten breed
And stashed what little that he made,
'Cause a smart one was Joe Creed

Joe Creed went to the valley, one fateful young spring day
Smoked the pipe and prayed for vision, to come to him they say
He chanted through the night time, until the break of dawn
Then Joe Creed loaded up,
his well used six shot gun


The folks in town were breathless, when they first saw Joe Creed
In his Grandpa's blazing bonnet, his face painted red and green
Joe Creed he came in shootin, went down in the same way
And Joe Creed is still shootin, with the spirits so they say

And here it is two thousand one, and we here all are free
The buffalo are in some yard, up round some big city
And now and then I smoke the pipe, the spirits call to me
And in my mind now and again, I'm with my friend Joe Creed


Are They All The Same

Ballad Of Fifty Dollars

Last Of The Desperados

All About The Money

I Wonder If I'll Ever Find My Home

The Old Five & Dime

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