(Harris)

The white man came across the sea, he brought us pain and misery
He killed our tribes he killed our creed, he took our game for his own need
We fought him hard we fought him well, out on the plains we gave him hell
But many came to much for Cree, oh will we ever be set free?
Riding through dust clouds and barren wastes, galloping hard on the plains
Chasing the redskins back to their holes, fighting them at their own game
Murder for freedom the stab in the back, women and children and cowards attack

Run to the hills, run for your lives
Run to the hills, run for your lives

Soldiers blue in the barren wastes, hunting and killing the game
Raping the women and wasting the men, the only good Indians are tame
Selling them whiskey and taking their gold, enslaving the young and destroying the old

To be continued...