Pretty Horses

The wagon train, well it rolled along

Wheels a-creakin' and singin' a song

Of a land of freedom a-lying ahead

When all of a sudden a little boy said

"Look at all those pretty horses."

In sharp silhouette against the sun

The wagon master saw them run

Their ponies from the shadowed dale

To the high ground flanking the Oregon trail

All those pretty horses

As the young lad's voice cut through the air

His father shouted "Careful there

Son, get down in the wagon bed

And don't you dare to raise your head

To look at all those pretty horses."

The wagons made a circle round

And then they heard that fearful sound

Someone cried "There's a Brule Sioux

They're circling round by the Little Blue

On all those pretty horses."

With lances high and carbines flashing

The Indians sent their ponies crashing

Against the guns of the wagon band

And the blood spilled over the prairie land

And over all those pretty horses

The next day as the sun climbed high

A buzzard soared in the blazin' sky

And far below the boy did stare

In silent horror he did stare

At all those pretty horses

When the soldiers came and found him there

His head still bowed in dark despair

His lips were cold, his face was gray

And in the silence they heard him say

"They were such pretty horses."