Brave and proud as all the village vowed,
That the land would belong to our sons,
We pledged our name, was then the wagons came,
And we ran from the sound of the guns.
Fugitives across the land with empty hearts and empty hands,
And all the troubles underneath the sun,
Life was all we had to give, but not the life we used to live,
With all the triumph over now and done.
Sick and weak, we came to Bitter Creek,
In the year I became twenty-five,
The young and old we faced the bitter cold,
In the last great event of our lives.
Underdogs in every place and every line on every face,
Remained to tell of land that we had lost,
Leaning on the only hope we lay with elk and antelope,
To fight the killing fever of the frost.
Robbed of the right to be one with the white,
It's the end of the fight for the Redman,
Gone is the grace and the pride on his face,
It's the end of the race for the Redman.