The Cowboy and the Indian
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
I still have roots, the Indian replied.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
The Indian told him From darkness, stars light skies.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
The Indian drew a heart in the dust.
The cowboy tried to trample it.
He built a fence around the Indian’s home.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
I can’t be broken like a horse, the Indian sighed.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
Throw me like sticks to a flame but
hope is stronger than hate, the Indian cried.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
The Indian whispered Like heat, I’ll rise.
I still have roots, the Indian replied.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
The Indian told him From darkness, stars light skies.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
The Indian drew a heart in the dust.
The cowboy tried to trample it.
He built a fence around the Indian’s home.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
I can’t be broken like a horse, the Indian sighed.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
Throw me like sticks to a flame but
hope is stronger than hate, the Indian cried.
Bang, bang, you’re dead, the cowboy said.
The Indian whispered Like heat, I’ll rise.
This poem is copyright (©) Emma Phillips 2026
About the Writer
Emma Phillips
Emma Phillips lives, writes and teaches by the M5 in Devon, which sometimes lures her off in search of adventure. Her poetry for children can be found in Tyger, Tyger, The School Magazine, Little Thoughts Press and Paperbound, as well as here on the Dirigible Balloon. She is addicted to crisps.
