F                      F/E           F/D        F/C       
The good times scratched a laugh from the lungs of a young man
     Bb       Bbmaj7       C 
In a Deadwood saloon South Dakota afternoon
        F                 F/E             F/D            F/C   
And the old ones by  the door with their heads to their chests
          Bb         Bbmaj7       C  
They told lies about whiskey on a woman's breast
F             F/E      F/D          F/C
Some tell the story of young Mickey Free 
        Bb            Bbmaj7      C
Lost an eye to a buck deer in the Tongue river valley 
F             F/E      F/D         F/C
Some tell the story of California Joe 
        Bb                     Bbmaj             C
He sent word that    the Black Hills they  was a mountain of gold
        Dm           Dm/C          Bb
And the gold she lay cold in their pockets
        Dm           Dm/C        Bb
And the sun she sets down on the trees
     Dm              Dm/C           Bb
And they'll thank the Lord for this land that they live in
        F                 Bb         Gm    C   F
Where a white man well he does as he pleases
F                     F/E      F/D        F/C
Some flat shoed  fool from the east come a running 
     Bb                Bbmaj7          C
With some news that he read in some St Joseph paper 
           F       F/E              F/D         F/C
And its drinks all around cause the news he's a telling 
       Bb            Bbmaj7          C
Is the one they call crazy has been caught and been dealt with
F       F/E          F/D                     F/C

And the Easterner he reads the news from the paper 
Bb                    Bbmaj7                  C
And the old ones draw nearer so that they can hear better 
F            F/E                       F/D
F/C     
Well it says here that Crazy Horse was killed while he was trying to
escape 
            Bb            Bbmaj7        C
Says is was sometime last September and don't give the exact date
        Dm           Dm/C          Bb
And the gold she lay cold in their pockets
        Dm           Dm/C        Bb
And the sun she sets down on the trees
     Dm              Dm/C           Bb
And they'll thank the Lord for this land that they live in
        F                 Bb         Gm    C   F
Where a white man well he does as he pleases
F             F/E            F/D        F/C

Then the talk turned back to whisky and women 
Bb                  Bbmaj7       C 
Cold nights on the  plains  lord fighting the Indians 
F             F/E                 F/D            F/C        
The Easterner says he'll have one more before he goes 
Bb              Bbmaj7                 C
He gives up the paper to the Crow boy sweeps up the floor
        Dm           Dm/C          Bb
And the gold she lay cold in their pockets
        Dm           Dm/C        Bb
And the sun she sets down on the trees
     Dm              Dm/C           Bb
And they'll thank the Lord for this land that they live in
        F                 Bb         Gm    C   F
Where a white man well he does as he pleases