Written by: (Harris)

White man came across the sea
 He brought us pain and misery
 He killed our tribes, he killed our creed
 He took our game for his own need

 We fought him hard, we fought him well
 Out on the plains we gave him [bad word] 
 But many came, too much for Cree
 Oh, will we ever be set free?

 Riding through dustclouds and barren wastes
 Galloping hard on the plains
 Chasing the redskins back to their holes
 Fighting them at their own game

 Murder for freedom, a stab in the back
 Women and children and cowards attack

 [bad word] to the hills
 [bad word] for your lives
 [bad word] to the hills
 [bad word] for your lives

 Soldier blue in the barren wastes
 Hunting and killing their game
 Raping the women and wasting the men
 The only good indians are tame

 Selling them whisky and taking their gold
 Enslaving the young and destroying the old

 [bad word] to the hills
 [bad word] for your lives
 [bad word] to the hills
 [bad word] for your lives

 [bad word] to the hills
 [bad word] for your lives
 [bad word] to the hills
 [bad word] for your lives