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 the mascalero death moans   See the smooth black nuggets by the thousands lying 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