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 to Cree,
Oh will we ever be set free?

Riding through dustclouds 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 for 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