Cattle
Written by Kirk Hawley
Back in 1878 there wasn't any town,
Just a green place where the river bent and spread
It's hard to have much fun when you're the only boy around
And you're lonesome and there's chores to do instead
Mill Creek was a jungle then, you could walk down through the sloughs
To the muddy river banks and running water
And sometimes you would come across the Indians and their camps
With their horses and their tents and sons and daughters.
Where did all those red kids go, the ones that used to love to go
Down by that river bed to splash and paddle
They went where all the others went, sunk in sin or heaven bent
Rounded up and herded out like cattle.
Renegades and outlaws, they were drunk most of the time,
Polk and Mancos Jim and all those others
Running wild and stealing and killing when they could,
Left me for dead and killed my brothers.
Where did all that wild bunch go, who wouldn't stop their killing so
Their reckless ways could only end in battle
They went where all the others went, sunk in sin or heaven bent
Rounded up and herded out like cattle.
My horse was dead, my foot and half my face were shot away
Lying at the head of Spanish Valley
The rumors must have spread real quick around the Indian camps
Little Chief sent some women out to find me
Where'd those Indian women go, who picked me up and took me home
And rode alongside to keep me in the saddle
They went where all the others went, sunk in sin or heaven bent,
Rounded up and herded out like cattle.
Rounded up and herded out like cattle.
Rounded up and herded out like cattle.