Sussana Little Gone fore I ever Questions that stream through my own Creek The odyssey of your
A motherless child , you torn from your home By of the county affairs Good Christians, they gave you a dress And shorn back that hair
Told ya your Bible, be silent and still And take to the of the whites Nothin they could break down your will For you ran for the one night
Little Sussana fore I ever arrived Questions that stream my own Creek blood that keep you alive
Your daddy , Joe Little, had of his own Drink was much stronger than But some in the city native red hands Were no place to let rest a
Oklahoma was with the stench of black oil And the men who came to drill In the sun baked clay of lands There, in the fields
Little Sussana fore I ever arrived Questions that stream through my own creek Songs thata keep you
Mysterious crimes, oh they through the county Waving the of blame Eyes turned to Joe A couple too many acres of to his name
No one would have the lone shot in the night never posted his bail Big Joey Little, walked out Of Sheriff Stantons
Sussana Sussana Gone I ever arrived Questions that stream through my own Creek The odyssey of your
For all of the you had lived this far No part of you have known The evil hearts of the men who would ya One by the side of the road
The moon, it grew and the frost would form Before ya were found Chained to a log in a torn white Shakin wild on the ground
Little Sussana Gone fore I arrived Questions that through my own creek blood Such were the of your life...
Yet in the years to come, you a man five of your own And for a spell it was as almost as The of justice had shown
The that had written this part but for you And made it all plenty Gave you a gusher, a spring of oil in your own back yard
So pile them in the plush back seat shotgun in the Packard to town With your man, Tom Fisher, one on the wheel The other on your now
Little Sussana Gone fore I ever Questions that stream my own Creek blood The of your life
Sussana Little Sussana Sussana