MOURNING DOVE 
 
 
 
A withered hand strokes his silver hair 
The savory scent of his pipe fills the air 
He sits alone in his rocking chair 
Through the window of his cabin 
He stares at the bay.... 
 
And his thoughts go stealing 
And his mind goes reeling 
Sailing on a sea of sensitive feeling 
Traveling time to another day 
Traveling time to another day 
 
He remembers his youth and an Indian bride 
Cool summer nights on a buffalo hide 
Prairies, mountains, and valleys 
Together they would ride 
The sun in his face and her at his side 
His heart swelling on a sea of pride 
Then came the soldiers and Mourning Dove died 
Then came the soldiers and Mourning dove died 
 
The grass and the trees tried to comfort as he cried 
But there was nowhere for his hurt to hide 
His surging love would not subside 
And he could not forget his Indian bride 
And the senseless way in which she died 
 
But that was back in the days of old 
Before the prospector searched for gold 
His love still burned 
Though her body was cold 
Her image was branded forever on his soul 
But that was back in the days of old 
Before the prospector searched for gold 
He can still see her fiery eyes 
And feel the touch of her body's desires 
But that was back in the days of old 
Before the prospector searched for gold 
Back in the days of old  
 
Now he speaks to the moon and rain 
And Mother Earth his words proclaim 
Like a howling wind on an open plain 
Again and again echoes the refrain 
Like the sound of a distant drum 
The curse causeless does not come 
The curse causeless does not come 
 
In the silent darkness 
When the night birds sing 
Mourning dove comes 
She's on the wing 
Through the canyons of time 
Her laughter rings 
He feels her warmth 
He cracks a smile 
Her presence lingers with him awhile 
Then comes the dawn and she is gone 
Then comes the dawn and she is gone 
 
A withered hand strokes his silver hair 
The savory scent of his pipe fills the air 
He sits alone in his rocking chair 
Through the window of his cabin 
He stares at the bay.... 
 
And his thoughts go stealing 
And his mind goes reeling 
Sailing on a sea of sensitive feeling 
Traveling time to another day 
Traveling time to another day 
 
Copyright May 5, 1982 Gerald Odom/Spanky Mongo