I'll sing you a song, though it may be a sad one
Of trials and troubles and where first begun
I left my dear fam’ly, my friends and my home
To cross the wide mountains and deserts to roam

I crossed the Missouri and joined a large train
Which bore us over mountains, through valley and plain
And often of an evening a-huntin' we'd go
To shoot the fleet antelope and wild buffalo

We heard of Sioux Indians all out on the plains
A-killing poor drivers and burning their trains
A-killing poor drivers with arrows and bows
When captured by Indians no mercy they’d show

We traveled three weeks till we come to the Platte
A-pitching our tents at the head of the flat
We spread down our blankets on the green shady ground
Where the mules and the horses were grazing around

While taking refreshment, we heard a loud yell
The whoops of Sioux Indians come up from the dell
We sprang to our rifles with a flash in each eye
And says our brave leader, "We'll fight till we die"

They made a bold dash and they come near our train
The arrows fell around us like showers of rain
But with our long rifles we fed them hot lead
Till a-many a brave warrior around us lay dead
We shot their bold chief at the head of their band
He died like a warrior with his bow in his hand
When they saw their brave chief lie dead in his gore
They whooped and they yelled and we saw them no more

In our little band there were just twenty-four
And of the Sioux Indians five hundred or more
We fought them with courage, we spoke not a word
The whoop of Sioux Indians was all could be heard

We hooked up our horses and started our train
Three more bloody battles this trip on the plain
And in our last battle three of our brave boys fell
And we left them to rest in the green shady dell