| 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, too 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, a 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 | |
| Soldier blue in the barren wastes | |
| Hunting and killing's a game | |
| Raping the women and wasting the men | |
| The only good Injuns 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 | |
| Run to the hills | |
| Run for your lives | |
| Run to the hills | |
| Run for your lives | |
| Run to the hills | |
| Run for your lives |