| I was in a burial party, way back to Wounded Knee,
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| Rock hammers and ice picks, to chip the dead ones free
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| After the massacre, the blizzard, they’ve been frozen to the ground
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| Mother, children and warriors we found them all around.
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| They were frozen in their agony or shock and terror has they fled
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| The army’s giant Howitzers they sang their song of death
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| We found chief Big Foot, his scarf around his face
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| The ice was frozen blood, from neck down to his waist
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| Their bloody footprints in the snow that the ghost danced for the dead
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| and I hoped that it was true, what all the legend said.
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| They’re will be a new spring coming and our families will come home
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| Game will fill the prairie, crops will always grow.
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| We wrapped the bodies in red blankets, placed them on our sled
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| And left there stacked up rifles and everything that they had
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| Crazy Horse was buried here, someone said as we were due to start
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| Just as hard, I told him, it’s only just as hard. |