| In the land they call the west
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| On the praries virgin crest
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| Lived a great man and his braves
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| And he led them to their graves
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| Big chief plays with baby son
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| The work of the indian today is done
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| Life is easy, life is grand
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| til there is white man, gun in hand
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| Started out when settlers came
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| And built their homes on the indian range
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| Big chief woolly bosher liked it none
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| Traded with a bad man for a gun
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| Big chief looks out at his great land
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| Locomotive on the prairie stands
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| Life that leak from the city in the east
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| Let us destroy that iron beast
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| Big chief rides on the trail tonight
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| Tread the land for which he must fight
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| In their fight for love and glory
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| Some indians were saved
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| They lived to tell the story
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| And woolly bosher prays
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| Big chief rides on the trail tonight
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| Soldier boys marching in the morning light
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| Bring the guns, bring the bows
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| Lets blow them into heaven lets see if God knows
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| One hundred men must have to die
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| When a thousand soldiers look you in the eye
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| Big chief sees his men fall round
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| The soldiers kill and the bugle sounds
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| In their fight for love and glory
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| No indians were saved
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| And big chief woolly bosher
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| Had written on his grave
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| He has done no wrong
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| Except being bold |