Spring water bubbles from out of ground

Its sparkling fountain makes that gurgling sound

The genesis high in mountain pass

A head long rush to the sea at last

It meets and flows and meets again

Until a river against the rock it strains

Headlong now through canyon pass

Tumbling stones we hear them clash

On high the cliff an Indian stands

With head dress fine he surveys his lands

He knows not his time has come

His culture dying and almost gone

He takes from nature but what he needs

But in the East grows a darker seed

The white man comes from over seas

And all he sees he says is his

Yes the Indians cousin will soon be here

And when he does, then shed that tear