Sussana Little Gone fore I arrived Questions that stream through my own blood The odyssey of your
A child , you were torn from your home By decree of the county Good Christians, gave you a lily-white dress And shorn back that Indian
ya study your Bible, be silent and still And to the ways of the whites Nothin they offered break down your will For you ran for the one night
Sussana Little Gone fore I ever Questions that stream my own Creek blood Stories that keep you
Your daddy , Joe Little, had of his own Drink was much stronger greed But in the city felt native red hands Were no place to let a deed
was rich with the stench of black oil And the men who there to drill In the sun baked clay of Indian There, in the fields
Little Sussana Gone fore I arrived Questions that stream my own creek blood thata keep you alive
Mysterious crimes, oh swept through the county Waving the finger of turned to Joe Little A couple too many acres of to his name
No one would have heard the shot in the night They never posted his Big Little, never walked out Of Sheriff Stantons
Sussana Little Gone fore I ever that stream through my own Creek blood The of your life
For all of the lives you had this far No of you could have known The evil of the men who would fetch ya One by the side of the road
The moon, it grew dark and the would form ya finally were found Chained to a log in a white dress Shakin wild eyed on the
Little Sussana Gone fore I ever Questions that through my own creek blood Such were the trials of life...
Yet in the to come, you took a man Raised five of own And for a spell it was as almost as The of justice had shown
The hand that had this part but for you And it all plenty hard Gave you a gusher, a spring of oil There in your own yard
So pile them kids in the plush seat shotgun in the Packard to town With your man, Tom Fisher, one on the wheel The on your knee now
Sussana Little Gone I ever arrived Questions stream through my own Creek blood The of your life
Sussana Little Sussana Sussana