Sussana Little   Sussana Little   Gone ‘fore I ever arrived   Questions that stream through my own Creek blood   The odyssey of your life      A motherless child , you were torn from your home   By decree of the county affairs   Good Christians, they gave you a lily-white dress   And shorn back that Indian hair      Told ya study your Bible, be silent and still   And take to the ways of the whites   Nothin’ they offered could break down your will   For you ran for the gates one night      Sussana Little   Sussana Little   Gone ‘fore I ever arrived   Questions that stream through my own Creek blood   Stories that keep you alive      Your daddy , Joe Little, had woes of his own   Drink was much stronger than greed   But some in the city felt native red hands   Were no place to let rest a deed      Oklahoma was rich with the stench of black oil   And the men who came there to drill   In the sun baked clay of Indian lands   There, in the desolate fields      Sussana Little   Sussana Little   Gone ‘fore I ever arrived   Questions that stream through my own creek blood   Songs that’a keep you alive      Mysterious crimes, oh they swept through the county   Waving the finger of blame   Eyes turned to Joe Little   A couple too many acres of land to his name      No one would have heard the lone shot in the night   They never posted his bail   Big Joey Little, never walked out   Of Sheriff Stanton’s jail      Sussana Little   Sussana Little   Gone ‘fore I ever arrived   Questions that stream through my own Creek blood   The odyssey of your life      For all of the lives you had lived this far   No part of you could have known   The evil hearts of the men who would fetch ya   One night by the side of the road      The moon, it grew dark and the frost would form   Before ya finally were found   Chained to a log in a torn white dress   Shakin’ wild eyed on the ground      Sussana Little   Sussana Little   Gone ‘fore I ever arrived   Questions that stream through my own creek blood   Such were the trials of your life...      Yet in the years to come, you took a man   Raised five of your own   And for a spell it was as almost as though    The light of justice had shown      The hand that had written this part but for you   And made it all plenty hard   Gave you a gusher, a well spring of oil   There in your own back yard      So pile them kids in the plush back seat   Ridin’ shotgun in the Packard to town   With your man, Tom Fisher, one hand on the wheel   The other on your knee now      Sussana Little   Sussana Little   Gone ‘fore I ever arrived   Questions that stream through my own Creek blood   The odyssey of your life      Sussana Little   Sussana Little   Sussana Little   Sussana Little