Garryowen – This is the old Irish drinking jig that was adopted by Custer’s 7th cavalry as its regimental fight song. According to legend, the horses would dance in rhythm to its 6/8 cadence. The soundscaped image is that of the 7th coming over the ridge and down into the Valley of the Little Big Horn on the morning of June 25th, 1876. Quite confident they were...

In the Valley of the Little Big Horn – This song was written after extensive research on both U.S. Cavalry and Indian accounts of the battle. (The central character is not unlike those introspective souls who were trapped in the quagmire of U.S./Vietnam policy in the 1960s.) As long as the buffalo survived, the Plains Indian warrior was extremely effective in defending his homeland. Economic considerations, however, outflanked moral and legal ones and treaty after treaty was broken and/or hastily rewritten to accommodate U. S. economic objectives. Such was the case when gold was discovered in the Black Hills in the early 1870s, thereby lighting the fuse that finally exploded in the face of Custer’s 7th Cavalry.

The sun arose far to the east where we had once been born,
The orders had been given to be riding before morn.
Mounted men on cavalry we faced a trail of thorns,
In the Valley of the Little Big Horn.

Reno, Benteen ‘n Custer led our command that day.
To slaughter Sioux and Cheyenne camped beyond the glade.
Who would see survival, who would be forlorn?
In the Valley of the Little Big Horn.

I was a soldier who rode to the tune,
Of a bugler’s “Garryowen” on a June afternoon.
Away from my loved ones, away from my home,
Apart from the woman that I held as my own.
“A leave will be granted to the man without help,
Kills the first savage and brings me his scalp,”

For what is the reason for our presence in this land
Has gold lust or blood thirst taken our command?
It doesn’t really matter now headin’ towards the storm,
In the Valley of the Little Big Horn.

There made three battalions from the Seventh Cavalry.
One with Major Reno, another with Benteen.
But glory followed Custer’s men so with glory we were torn,
From the Valley of the Little Big Horn.

I was a soldier who rode to the tune,
Of a bugler’s “Garryowen” on a June afternoon,
Away from my loved ones, away from my home,
Apart from the woman that I held as my own.
Ford the stream and when in camp kill everyone you see,
"Long will live this day for us, the Seventh Cavalry.”

Fire swept the prairie and dust hid the flames,
When out of the haze rode the Masters of the Plains
Then death they delivered, we invaders from afar,
In the Battle of the Little Big Horn.

The sun arose far to the east where we had once been born,
The orders had been given to be riding before morn.
Mounted men on cavalry we faced a trail of thorns, I
n the Valley of the Little Big Horn.

Mounted men on cavalry we faced a trail of thorns...

In the Valley of the Little Big Horn.