"Song Of The Emigrant Trail" गीत

I will sing you a song, e'en though a sad tale
Of hardships we met on the 'emigrant trail. '
When parting from kindred, from friends and our home
We westward o'er valleys and mountains did roam. '

They old us of Indians who harassed the plains,
The killing of drivers and burning of trains;
Of people they'd slaughtered with arrows and bow
Of cruelties practiced when striking the blow. '

We crossed the Missouri and joined a long train
Which crawled slowly onward o'er boundless wide plain;
While rambling and traveling we oft times would go
To hunt antelope or the wild buffalo.

By short daily marches we reached the North Platte,
Made camp by its waters, a green shady flat;
There circled our wagons 'mid trees on a mound
And herded our oxen and horses around.

In midst of our labor we heard a low wail,
The war cry of Indians who followed our trail;
Men sprung to their rifles in the flash of an eye.
Exclaimed our bold leader: "We'll fight till we die I"

We drove in our cattle, made ready to fight,
As painted red devils dashed plainly in sight;
They charged on our wagons with fierce whoop and yell;
At crack of our rifles six red warriors fell.

We killed their bold leader at the head of his band;
He died like a warrior, his bow in his hand.
A moment they halted when he fell to the ground,
Then screeching with hatred they circled us 'round.

With trusty long rifles we gave them cold lead
'Til many Sioux warriors lay on the ground dead;
They whooped and they hollered, then fled in dismay
With their chieftain's body when we won the day.

We had other combats, three brave men were slain
Defending their loved ones while crossing the plain;
We laid them at rest in a green shady dell.
Fond mem'ries there guard them-they fought true and well.

We traveled by day, guarded camp during night
'Til Oregon's mountains loomed high in their might;
Now at Pocahontas beside a clear stream
Our journey is ended in the land of our dream.