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