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Hoof prints and foot prints, deep ruts the wagons made
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The victor and the loser came by here
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no head stones but these bones bring Mascalero death moans
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see the smooth black nuggets by the thousands laying here
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petrified but justified are these Apache tears
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Dead grass, dry roots, hunger crying in the night
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Ghost of broken hearts and laws are here
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And who saw the young squaw they judged by their whiskey law
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Tortured till she died of pain and fear
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Where the soldiers lay her back are the black Apache tears
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The young men, the old men, the guilty and the innocent
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Bled red blood and chilled alike with fear
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The red men, the white men, no fight ever took this land
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So don't raise the dust when you pass here
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They're sleeping and in my keeping are these Apache tears