I like it    I don't like it

Hoof prints and foot prints deep ruts the wagons made

The victor and the loser came by here

No head stones but these bones bring Mascalero death moans

See the smooth black nuggets by the thousands laying here

Petrified but justified are these Apache tears

Dead grass dry roots hunger crying in the night

Ghost of broken hearts and laws are here

And who saw the young squaw they judged by their whiskey law

Tortured till she died of pain and fear

Where the soldiers lay her back are the black Apache tears

The young men the old men the guilty and the innocent

Bled red blood and chilled alike with fears

The red men the white men no fight ever took this land

So don't raise the dust when you pass here

They're sleeping and in my keeping are these Apache tears