(by Chief Dan George, 1967)
How long have I known you, Oh Canada? A hundred years? Yes, a hundred years. And many, many seelanum more. And today, when you celebrate your hundred years, Oh Canada, I am sad for all the Indian people throughout the land.
For I have known you when your forests were mine; when they gave me my meat and my clothing. I have known you in your streams and rivers where your fish flashed and danced in the sun, where the waters said ‘come, come and eat of my abundance.’ I have known you in the freedom of the winds. And my spirit, like the winds, once roamed your good lands.
But in the long hundred years since the white man came, I have seen my freedom disappear like the salmon going mysteriously out to sea. The white man’s strange customs, which I could not understand, pressed down upon me until I could no longer breathe.
When I fought to protect my land and my home, I was called a savage. When I neither understood nor welcomed his way of life, I was called lazy. When I tried to rule my people, I was stripped of my authority.
My nation was ignored in your history textbooks — they were little more important in the history of Canada than the buffalo that ranged the plains. I was ridiculed in your plays and motion pictures, and when I drank your fire-water, I got drunk — very, very drunk. And I forgot.
Oh Canada, how can I celebrate with you this centenary, this hundred years? Shall I thank you for the reserves that are left to me of my beautiful forests? For the canned fish of my rivers? For the loss of my pride and authority, even among my own people? For the lack of my will to fight back? No! I must forget what’s past and gone.
Oh God in heaven! Give me back the courage of the olden chiefs. Let me wrestle with my surroundings. Let me again, as in the days of old, dominate my environment. Let me humbly accept this new culture and through it rise up and go on.
Oh God! Like the thunderbird of old I shall rise again out of the sea; I shall grab the instruments of the white man’s success — his education, his skills, and with these new tools I shall build my race into the proudest segment of your society. Before I follow the great chiefs who have gone before us, Oh Canada, I shall see these things come to pass.
I shall see our young braves and our chiefs sitting in the houses of law and government, ruling and being ruled by the knowledge and freedoms of our great land. So shall we shatter the barriers of our isolation. So shall the next hundred years be the greatest in the proud history of our tribes and nations.
This lament, along with the words of Chief Dan George, inspired me to write the song “I, My People,” available on most streaming platforms. I grew up in the ’60s and ’70s watching Mr. George in films. As a kid, I admired his forthright nature and the integrity in his voice — even when the words were scripted. I didn’t know that then, and I didn’t care. What mattered to me then, as it does now, was his spirit. Whenever he spoke, you could feel that he was speaking the truth.
Chief Dan George carried something rare — a quiet strength that came from a deep connection to land, tradition, and dignity. Through his words, he gave voice to the pain and resilience of his people, and in doing so, he gave all of us a mirror. His legacy reminds me that truth and compassion can walk hand in hand, that courage doesn’t need to shout, and that art — whether a speech, a song, or a story — can still move hearts generations later.
When he finished this lament, there was silence — followed by a long, emotional standing ovation. Many non-Indigenous Canadians in the audience were visibly moved, some even in tears. The combination of sorrow and hope in his words struck a deep chord.
However, it was also deeply uncomfortable for political leaders and officials attending the event. Canada’s Centennial was meant to be a celebration of unity and progress — and here was a First Nations chief reminding the country of a century of dispossession, broken promises, and racism.
In newspapers the next day, reactions were mixed but mostly respectful:
Some journalists called it “the conscience of the Centennial.”
Others dismissed it as “a sad note” on a happy day.
A few politicians reportedly found it “inappropriate” or “political.”
Over time, the “Lament for Confederation” became recognized as a turning point in Indigenous activism and awareness in Canada.
It helped spark conversations that led to:
The Red Power movement of the late 1960s and 1970s.
The eventual 1973 Calder decision, where the Supreme Court acknowledged that Indigenous title existed prior to colonization.
And a wave of cultural and political renewal among First Nations people.
Chief Dan George himself went on to become an important cultural bridge, reminding Canadians that reconciliation begins with truth — long before the word “reconciliation” became mainstream.
Today, the speech is studied in schools, quoted in documentaries, and shared every Canada Day as a reminder that celebration without reflection is hollow.
It’s often seen as one of the most courageous and prophetic public addresses in Canadian history — one that still resonates nearly 60 years later.
Original lyrics by Gary Hewitt. Inspired in part by the words of Chief Dan George (Geswanouth Slahoot).
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Born before the century turned,
These schools are not my roots.
The fire still burns,
My name is Geswanouth Slahoot.
Sometimes the magic works,
Sometimes it doesn’t.
Hand in glove,
My people are present.
I am a thousand years old,
I am the voice of the past.
I cry for my people,
That our message may last.
I am the voice,
Of First Nations in Canada.
I was born a free man,
But I… will die asunder.
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
The beauty of the trees,
The softness of the air.
The fragrance of the grass,
It speaks to me there.
The faintness of the stars,
The freshness of morn.
The dew drop on the flower,
And a world still torn.
I am a thousand years old,
I am the voice of the past.
I cry for my people,
That our message may last.
I am the voice,
Of First Nations in Canada.
I was born a free man,
But I… will die asunder.
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
ho oh ho oh
ho oh ho oh
I am free to starve —
Hee ya, Hey ya ho
Free to die of hunger —
Hee ya, Hey ya ho
Free to die of disease —
Hee ya, Hey ya ho
And my world is plundered.
I am a civilized man —
Told to forgive —
Hi ya ahh hey ya ho
They give me some land —
Hi ya
But I am not free to live.
The land of the maple leaf,
Has taken many things.
Yet I leave you with this:
My heart still soars.
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Tsleil Waututh
Hey ya ho
Woah oh, Woah oh
Woah oh, Woah oh
Woah oh, Woah oh
Woah oh, Woah oh
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