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The 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 hell

But many came, to much for Cree

Oh, will we ever be set free?

Riding through dust clouds and barren wastes

Galloping hard on the plains

Chasing the redskins back to their holes

Fighting them at their own game

Murder for freedom the stab in the back

Women and children and cowards attack

Run to the hills, run for your lives

Run to the hills, run for your lives

Soldiers blue in the barren wastes

Hunting and killing the game

Raping the women and wasting the men

The only good Indians are tame

Selling them whiskey and taking their gold

Enslaving the young and destroying the old

Run to the hills, run for your lives

Run to the hills, run for your lives

Run to the hills, run for your lives...