The Last Of The Mohicans Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

In forests old, where shadows creep,
A war unfolds, while settlers sleep.
French fight with English, red men too,
For land and power, old and new.

Hawkeye, a scout, with steady hand,
And Mohicans brave, in a troubled land.
Chingachgook, wise, his son so bold,
Uncas the swift, a story told.

Two sisters fair, with hearts so light,
Caught in the fray, and plunged in night.
Magua the cruel, with vengeful fire,
Seeks dark revenge, fuels his desire.

Through woods they run, a desperate chase,
Against the odds, with time and space
Against them all, the scout and braves,
To rescue girls from open graves.

The last of tribe, their spirit strong,
Fight for what's right, where they belong.
A tale of courage, love, and loss,
Across the wild, they pay the cost.