I’ll sing you a song, though it may be a sad one
Of trials and troubles and where they first begun
I left my dear kindred, my friends, and my home
Across the wild deserts and mountains to roam.
I crossed the Missouri and joined a large train
Which bore us over mountain and valley and plain
And often of evenings out hunting we’d go
To shoot the fleet antelope and wild buffalo.
We heard Sioux Indians all out on the plains
A-killing poor drivers and burning their trains
A-killing poor drivers with arrows and bows
When captured by Indians no mercy they show.
We traveled three weeks til we came to the Platte
And pitched out our tents at the end of the flat
We spread down our blankets on the green grassy ground
While our horses and mules were grazing around.
While take refreshment we heard a low yell
The whoop of Sioux Indians coming up from the dell
We sprang to our rifles with a flash in each eye
Boys, says our brave leader, we’ll fight till we die.
They made a bold dash and came near to our train
And the arrows fell around us like hail and like rain
But with our long rifles we fed them cold lead
Till many a brave warrior around us lay dead.
We shot their bold chief at the head of his band
He died like a warrior with a gun in his hand
When they saw their bold chief lying dead in his gore
They whooped and they yelled and we saw them no more.
With our small band, there were just twenty four
And the Sioux Indians there were five hundred or more
We fought them with courage, we spoke not a word
Till the end of the battled was all that was heard.
We hitched up our horses and we started our train
Three more bloody battles this trip on the plain
And in our last battle three of our brave boys fell
And we left them to rest in a green, shady dell.