Some years ago I read the  horrible story of "The Massacre of 1810 at Ywahoo Falls"   I felt so sad that some people hold so much hatred in their hearts for others not of their race. I thought I would make this page in hopes that whom ever reads this poem   will put love for one another in their hearts and remember that we are ALL sons and daughters of our Creator.

inside Ywahoo Falls

The Ballard of Yahoo Falls

by Mark A. Abner

It was the year of 1810

The August leaves were green

At the sacred place we call Ah hoo

There falls a sparkling stream

It was a sanctuary place

Its water clear and cool

There gathered children to stay safe

Until they journeyed south to school

But on that August Friday night

a horrid fate would fall

Before the bright new sun would rise

Their lives would flee them all

One hundred children there were held

Their mothers at their sides

When on the front guard white men fell

Filled with hatred, greed and pride

When all the front guard they had killed

scalped red and white alike

The killers rushed down to the falls

and fell on children in the night

Around the rim surrounded men

That none could make excape

The blood is ran there ankle deep

As they killed and scalped and raped

Some miles away came Kutsawah

Corn blossum walked there too

Into a tree where all could see

A mighty raptor flew

Into the bark its beak did strike

And from there blood did stream

And the cry that rang from the hawks

own throat

Was a babies tortured scream

The warriors rushed on to the falls

To see what had befell

They found their children dead and scalped

And on the killers fell

The Franklinites who stayed behind

their pleasures to fulfill

Were sent to face their personal hells

No more children would they kill

On the cliffs two days Corn Blossum

mourned

Till her spirit floated free

Her son and husband flown before

"Remember us" her plea

On August 10th in 1810

A traversty occured

But in this country's history

There's written not a word

Our bones from ancient graves now torn

Are dug and dozed and tossed

With dynamite without regard

to sacred mysteries lost

But out of the dark, forgotten years

There springs the peoples voice

To sing again our sacred songs

And make our hearts rejoice

The Cherokee are living still

We walk with you each day

With wisedom's learned and gifts to share

If you would learn our ways

Respect all things upon the earth

And those who came before

Protect the land for those who come

That their spirits too may soar

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