This is the number which Bennie and I just written
Fresh of the parses, folks
Ah, we read it when we went back after our last visit
And Bennie had been to an Indian reservation
And ah, he'd written a song about the Indians
And we just started this, it's not been recorded
Or anything, ah, it's just about to be bought, ah
But ah, never mind, there's a method in our madness I tell you
It's a cool Indian sunset and it's very long
So if you like to go to the toilet now
You can quite, you are quite welcome
It's my notice here
As I awoke this evening
With the smell of woodsmoke clinging
Like a gentle cobweb hanging
Upon a painted tepee
Oh, I went to see my chieftain
With my warlance and my woman
For he told us that the yellow moon
Would very soon be leaving
Oh, this I can't believe I said
I won't believe our warlord's dead
Oh, he would not leave the chosen ones
To the buzzards and the soldiers' guns
Oh, great father of the Iroquois
Ever since I was young
I've read the writing of the smoke
And breastfed on the sound of drums
I've learned to hurl the tomahawk
And ride a painted pony wild
To run the gauntlet of the Sioux
To make a chieftain's daughter mine
And now you ask that I should watch
The red man's race be slowly crushed?
What kind of words are these to hear
From Yellow Dog, whom white man fears?
♪
I take only what is mine, Lord
My pony, my squaw, and my child
Oh, I can't stay to see you die
Along with my tribe's pride
I go to search for the yellow moon
And the fathers of our sons
Where the red sun sinks in the hills of gold
And the healing waters run
Trampling down the prairie rose
Leaving hoof tracks in the sand
Those who wish to follow me
I welcome with my hands
I heard from passing renegades
Geronimo was dead
He'd been laying down his weapons
When they filled him full of lead