Psalm of Sand Creek

Smoke from broken camps
 Smoke from broken contracts
 Borne out on November winds
 A flock of seven hundred sheep
 Led by one who cruelly preached
 A man who coldly traded blood for blood
 And at the bend of old Sand Creek
 The men out hunting to the east
 The women and their children fast asleep
 Who is to blame for this most shameful thing?
 Chivington's soldiers take aim
 They mowed them down with rifle fire
 They ran them through with sabers
 They pulled the babes from where they hid
 And snuffed their lives with hatred
 Though they huddled 'neath the flag
 There was no shelter to be had
 The ground was clotted thick with blood and scalps
 Who takes the blame for this tragic scene?
 May Chivington be smothered in flames
 Nothing lives too long
 Only earth and mountains