Rangatira

By Makiuti Tongia

First Voice:

I am the Rangatira Yes!

Give me the chance, and I’ll give you the means.

Together, we’ll make the flour or your children’s kai.

Together we’ll seek the comfort We want.

Then we’ll sing in triumph of the Fight we’ll win, And flood our Marae With what is ours.

Second Voice:

Nay, my people, Do not be deceived.

Listen, I am the Rangatira.

Listen to me, hear me out.

I am the Rangatira, fully ordained, Am I not the soul That once healed the pains?

Ami not the call You’ve been praying for?

So! Why be doubtful?

Why be sad?

At what has been?

Why cast that look To make me small?

Give me the chance!

Am 1 not?

Third Voice:

Thanks to you The fight is over.

The true Rangatira wins.

Where was he When the harvest was bad?

What did he do?

Shooting rockets to the moon.

Working for Big Daddy, Suit, necktie, and all!

His charms exposed, he Retreats to us, Seeks help and food.

Then!

Claims! 7 am the Rangatira! !

The harvest is bad, My people is sad.

Ah!—a scapegoat!

The expatriates, the Demos — Blame them!

They’re leeches, They’re the bandits.

Rake them out.

Give them hell.

Come, my people!

Your Rangatira commands!

Seek and sack, For they only pollute Our stated salutes.