Sussana Little Gone fore I arrived Questions that stream through my own Creek The of your life
A motherless , you were torn from your home By of the county affairs Good Christians, gave you a lily-white dress And shorn that Indian 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 gates one
Sussana Little Gone fore I ever Questions stream through my own Creek blood Stories that you alive
Your daddy , Joe Little, had of his own Drink was much stronger greed But some in the city felt red hands no place to let rest a deed
Oklahoma was with the stench of black oil And the men who came to drill In the sun baked clay of Indian There, in the fields
Sussana Sussana Gone fore I ever Questions that through my own creek blood Songs thata keep you
Mysterious crimes, oh they through the county Waving the of blame Eyes to Joe Little A too many acres of land to his name
No one would have heard the lone shot in the They never posted his Big Joey Little, walked out Of Stantons jail
Sussana Sussana Gone fore I ever Questions stream through my own Creek blood The odyssey of life
For all of the lives you had this far No of you could have known The evil hearts of the men who would ya One night by the side of the
The moon, it grew dark and the frost would Before ya finally found to a log in a torn white dress Shakin wild on the ground
Sussana Sussana Gone fore I ever 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 as though The light of had shown
The hand that had this part but for you And it all plenty hard you a gusher, a well spring of oil There in your own yard
So pile them kids in the plush seat Ridin in the Packard to town With your man, Tom Fisher, one on the wheel The on your knee now
Little Sussana Gone fore I arrived Questions stream through my own Creek blood The of your life
Sussana Sussana Sussana Sussana