Odes to Georgia · Track 3 · middle
New Echota and the Trail of Tears
New Echota and the Cherokee removal of 1838 — the capital of the Cherokee Nation, the Cherokee Phoenix newspaper, Sequoyah syllabary, the forced march that began in north Georgia, Worcester v. Georgia ignored
Lyrics
[Intro] [Verse 1] New Echota, October 3, 1790, John Ross born far off, but here in 1825, you rise as capital, council house standing tall. The printing press arrives February 21, 1828, Cherokee Phoenix, ink on paper, Sequoyah's syllabary curling like smoke from a fire. Elias Boudinot at the typeset, words in two tongues, pleading against the tide that Worcester v. Georgia tried to stem. [Chorus] Oh, press of New Echota, you carried our hearts, through the stockades at Fort Hetzel, May 26, 1838. Families huddled in timber walls, dawn breaking cold at 5:30 AM, stink of sweat and fear, mud underfoot slick as betrayal. You, with your iron frame, confiscated in 1835, but the march begins, 15°F in December, blankets thin as promises. [Verse 2] Sequoyah, circa 1770, your letters like carved wood, taught in the homes around the Etowah River bend. John Ross at 48, writing to Congress, hearts sickened, utterance paralyzed, but the soldiers come at dawn. Elias, 36, signing the Treaty of New Echota, knowing his life in his hands, assassinated June 22, 1839. The cave, Devil’s Den, hides a few, limestone whispers. [Chorus] Oh, press of New Echota, you carried our hearts, through the stockades at Fort Hetzel, May 26, 1838. Families huddled in timber walls, dawn breaking cold at 5:30 AM, stink of sweat and fear, mud underfoot slick as betrayal. You, with your iron frame, confiscated in 1835, but the march begins, 15°F in December, blankets thin as promises. [Bridge] Unrecorded mothers in the stockades, names lost to military logs, 400 detained, but their grief echoes in the freezing wind. General Wool’s reports, the militia’s silence, and Sequoyah gone by August 1843, searching. [Verse 3] Trail from north Georgia to Indian Territory, salted pork spoiled, cornmeal moldy in the rations. Thirteen thousand started, four thousand graves along the way. Ross’s memorial, 1836, bereft of home, but the earth remembers, near Calhoun, the ruins stand. [Outro] New Echota, your press silent now, but the syllabary sings on.