The red men, the white men, no fight ever took this land
Where the soldiers lay her back, are the black apache tears
Tortured till she died of pain and fear
And who saw the young squaw, they judged by their whiskey law
So don't raise the dust when you pass here
Dead grass, dry roots, hunger crying in the night
The young men, the old men, the guilty and the innocent
See the smooth black nuggets by the thousands lying here
Ghost of broken hearts and laws are here
Petrified, but justified are these apache tears
Bled red blood and chilled alike with fears
No head stones, but these bones bring the mascalero death moans
