You’ll come with me to the mountain
Where wind is gentle and sweet
We’ll scent the Aravaipa
Where river and flowers meet
We’ll flee the drunken Bluecoats
Their guns and terrors shake
And live in highland meadows
Above the cannon’s quake
We’ll sing a song together
And track the water’s spill
And leave our troubled homeland
Below the distant hill
We’ll bring the bones of our fathers
From molding graves unearthed
And bury them beside us
The fertile land re-birthed
We’ll build a lodge for our children
Above a gentle slope
And sing the songs our mothers taught
And fill them each with hope
Our lodge among the scented pines
With wooded hills surround
We’ll listen to the whispering wind
Where mighty trees abound
The blood and death the White Eyes bring
With whiskeyed lies besotten
We’ll spill their ashes ‘neath the moon
Their butchery forgotten.
