Trouble's Sure To Come

In the dark of the day

Back in eighteen eighty-nine,

When the moon jumped ahead

And the sun fell behind,

The light of a dream

Lit the soul of a man,

Who'd send circles of his vision

Far across the land.

In his dream, they would meet

Both the living and the dead,

They should all live in peace

Both the white and the red,

But some made a change

As his dream spread around,

They saw visions of the white man

Swallowed by the ground.

Don't send the soldiers,

A lone voice warned,

There'll be much to regret

There'll be hundreds to mourn,

Mix the powder of the gun

With the beating of the drum,

And as sure as the snow falls,

"Trouble's sure to come."

When the word hit the air

Under South Dakota skies,

That the Sioux danced around

With a fire in their eyes,

The agents cried out

For the army to come,

To made sure the crazed Lakota

Stilled their ghostly drums

But the words of a man

Who had been an agent there

Warned of blood on the ground

And of death in the air,

He wrote to the East

With a last-minute plea,

And his words could have prevented

Blood at Wounded Knee.

Don't send the soldiers,

The lone voice warned,

There'll be much to regret

There'll be hundreds to mourn,

Mix the powder of the gun

With the beating of the drum,

And, as sure as the snow falls,

"Trouble's sure to come."

Bluegrass / Western Lyric by Dennis Goodwin - copyright 2008 e-mail: ezywriter47@hotmail.com