my tongue

this is my tongue that i show
and speak to people that i know
it's native like an early Indian village
before the europeans came to pillage
and expand westward with a mumble
slipped from the mouth like a careless fumble
because their destination was the thing;
not the words they employed to sing.
With a WAGONS HO! and a mighty wave
rose unlovely voices they came to crave
of a single syllable and a lazy grunt
Oh Bards, attack this affront!
To the language walls and guard your post
or this English tongue, my man, is toast.