There comes a song
From low over the Dakota hills,
Carrying the lament of squaw’s loss;
Of warriors lost out on the range.

Bury not the legends,
Told to distant sons,
Of nobility,
And fierceness of heart,
But also of family,
And bending to a code
Of righteousness,
That governed the heart of the brave.

Hold your tongue
And listen,
To songs that will ride the wind,
And hear the words of Grandfather,
Guiding his sons into battle.
The Sioux;
Noble hearts,
Annihilated by the indiscretion
Of lesser men.

But onward go the tales,
And memory will not be lost,
Completely,
Of brave men
In trying times,
Whose destruction makes us wince,
Even today,
For their defeat
Was no victory,
Just a stain
On history’s pages.
No more slay the noble warrior.