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In the land they call the west |
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On the prarie's virgin crest |
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Lived a great man and his braves |
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And he led them to their graves |
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Big chief plays with baby son |
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The work of the indian today is done |
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Life is easy, life is grand |
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'til there is white man, gun in hand |
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Started out when settlers came |
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And built their homes on the indian range |
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Big chief woolly bosher liked it none |
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Traded with a bad man for a gun |
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Big chief looks out at his great land |
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Locomotive on the prairie stands |
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Life that leak from the city in the east |
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Let us destroy that iron beast |
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Big chief rides on the trail tonight |
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Tread the land for which he must fight |
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In their fight for love and glory |
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Some indians were saved |
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They lived to tell the story |
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And woolly bosher prays |
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Big chief rides on the trail tonight |
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Soldier boys marching in the morning light |
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Bring the guns, bring the bows |
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Let's blow them into heaven let's see a cut nose |
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One hundred men must have to die |
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When a thousand soldiers look you in the eye |
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Big chief sees his men fall round |
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The soldiers kill and the bugle sounds |
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In their fight for love and glory |
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No indians were saved |
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And big chief woolly bosher |
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Had written on his grave |
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He has done no wrong |
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Except being born |
