We crawl-cross thru mountain passes, the journey hard and long,
Even for the strong; forced from hearth and home our tome is sad;
We’re making this journey, taking very little, sacks on our backs;
Is there some promised land ahead, or just the hot, desert sand?
We are a band of sojourners now, and how sad is the tale we tell;
They came to claim, driving us to reservations for our preservation;
Ah! now others come from the south thru the mouth of river grand
And push them away and they say they have no right, these aliens
Are but plight, an ugly sight; these foreigners are not even white!
And what should we say? Come join us on our reservations for
Your own preservation; we reach out to you now to teach you!
Will you now learn the lessons that burn deep within our hearts?