The braid remains….
The braid remains…
They buried them deep… But we dug up all the braid remains…
Some were locked in museums... Some were thrown in the flames… But the
braid remains…
The braid remains...
They cut them off with dirty blades... Didn’t mark our graves…
But our spirit survived… Can’t put a spirit in chains //

Killing our culture and robbing our soul like copper
and gold… Potash and coal… That was their ultimate goal /
Fill us with fear and hate then offer us no sense of
respect… Disconnect us from all that we know //
Up here in the north a deep sadness resides…
But it’s also where traditions of our past have survived /
Up here is where our stress and pain and anguish has thrived…
But It’s also where we kept our Native language alive //
We’re still walking through the clay… Soaking in the shade…
Discrimi-hate imbedded deep in kokum’s DNA /
But we still got truth and strength flowing in our veins…
Still some still lose their way coping with the rage //
Still hunting on the bays trolling in the waves…
Still smudging while we pray… Growing out our braids /
Listen… This one right here is for the young braves
Driven… Keeping old ways living when they show them that the…//

The braid remains….
The braid remains…
They buried them deep… But we dug up all the braid remains…
Some were locked in museums... Some were thrown in the flames… But the
braid remains…
The braid remains...
They cut them off with dirty blades... Didn’t mark our graves…
But our spirit survived… Can’t put a spirit in chains //

I started hunting way before I was allowed to shoot…
Sitting in that blind was just something I was proud to do /
Watching those giant clouds of wavies glide down… It
made my pride howl… Loud like the sound of the booms //
I was eleven when I started hunting moose…
Way up the Kwatabahegan with my father… Cutting through / the
Swamp like a spoon through stew… I never knew I was
Hunting for a part of myself too… I fell through the //
Ice as a teen on the river in the spring…
Lost my dads snow machine… Watched it slowly sink /
Frozen in fear as I stared in the cold water…
Felt the current but the thought of surviving was pulling harder //
Took off my soaked parka and my mitts and I backed away…
Crawled along a high ridge that a crack had made /
Funny how the broken spots become the strongest…
The same goes for our hearts… you know the song say… //

The braid remains….
The braid remains…
They buried them deep… But we dug up all the braid remains…
Some were locked in museums... Some were thrown in the flames… But the
braid remains…
The braid remains...
They cut them off with dirty blades... Didn’t mark our graves…
But our spirit survived… Can’t put a spirit in chains //

The way that I was taught to hunt is a ceremony…
But I’ll never forget my first sit in the sweat /
Talking about our history’s a scary story…
But every word that we’ve said should be written and read //
To us it’s written in red… In blood... The ink that we’ve shed…
We’ve been dripping… We’ve bled… We’ve been hit with the lead… /
It’s time for them to stop speaking and just listen instead…
To our Native knowledge keepers where the wisdom is kept //

So let your braids down and let em wave in the wind…
Let your braids down and rep the Native within /
Let your braids down and be a brave like you’ve been…
Let your braids down and show them they didn’t win /
So let your braids down and let em wave in the wind…
Let your braids down and rep the Native within /
Let your braids down and be a brave like you’ve been…
Let your braids down and show them… /

The braid remains…
They buried them deep… But we dug up all the braid remains…
Some were locked in museums... Some were thrown in the flames… But the
braid remains…
The braid remains...
They cut them off with dirty blades... Didn’t mark our graves…
But our spirit survived… Can’t put a spirit in chains //