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 fear       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