Susanna Little

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