Sussana Little Gone fore I ever Questions stream through my own Creek blood The odyssey of life
A child , you were torn from your home By decree of the affairs Good Christians, gave you a lily-white dress And shorn back Indian hair
Told ya your Bible, be silent and still And take to the ways of the Nothin they offered could break your will For you ran for the one night
Sussana Sussana Gone I ever arrived Questions that through my own Creek blood Stories that you alive
Your , Joe Little, had woes of his own was much stronger than greed But some in the felt native red hands Were no place to let rest a
Oklahoma was rich with the stench of oil And the men who there to drill In the sun baked clay of Indian There, in the fields
Little Sussana Gone fore I ever Questions stream through my own creek blood Songs keep you alive
Mysterious crimes, oh they swept the county Waving the finger of turned to Joe Little A couple too acres of land to his name
No one would have heard the shot in the night never posted his bail Big Little, never walked out Of Sheriff Stantons
Little Sussana Gone fore I arrived Questions that through my own Creek blood The odyssey of your
For all of the you had lived this far No part of you could known The hearts of the men who would fetch ya One night by the of the road
The moon, it grew dark and the frost form Before ya finally found Chained to a log in a torn dress Shakin eyed on the ground
Sussana Little Gone fore I ever Questions that stream through my own blood Such the trials of your life...
Yet in the years to come, you a man Raised of your own And for a spell it was as almost as The light of justice had
The hand that had written this but for you And it all plenty hard Gave you a gusher, a well of oil There in your own back
So pile them kids in the plush seat Ridin shotgun in the to town your man, Tom Fisher, one hand on the wheel The other on your now
Little Sussana Gone fore I arrived that stream through my own Creek blood The of your life
Little Sussana Little Sussana