Horses hooves thump on the ground
Decorated with bright war dye
The chief stops on a grassy mound
And looks down with a sigh

At the little girl sitting there
His daughter who he now must leave
Bright of eye and black of hair,
Sweet of spirit, innocent and naïve.

A single tear runs down her face
Because she understands
That in the daring, courageous race
Meant to save her precious lands

Her father could be torn from her side
And this could be her last goodbye
And this could be the chief’s last ride
How could she help but cry?

Her father wishes he could cry too
He loves his daughter with all his heart
He hopes this will not be his final adieu
He is not ready from this world to depart.

He puts a hand on her crow-black hair
Sees her pretty face broken and scared
She tries to catch his hand and keep it there
Remembering the moments they have shared.

He knows that it is time to go
But he doesn’t want to leave her with no one
He tries to think of something to show
How much he loves her but time is done

He has to go, he has to fight
And as he leaves he watches her face
Struggle not to cry, to show her might
To the father that could leave this place





The enemy is fierce and blood pours
Father fights and daughter fears
They both wish there were no wars
What he sheds in blood she sheds in tears.

She wonders if the war will ever end
And if it does, will Father return?
Will this cruel war leave her without a friend?
She is filled with terror and concern

For the father who is leading the fight
And as he fights he sees her face
For her he makes his weapons kill and bite
For her he never slows his pace.

If it’s up to him, they will win
So he can return to his darling daughter
Who is so sweet and little and thin
But the enemy is stronger and eager to slaughter

The chief sees many brave men die
The daughter hears the cries and shouts
Father mourns, on his horse so high
And about the outcome of the battle he has doubts.

Hours pass, the daylight fades,
And the daughter hears a new sound: quiet.
What has happened to those in the raids?
She wonders what changed in the riot.

And then, over the crest of the far hill,
She hears an army start to cheer.
And down her spine there runs a chill.
Who had won and where was her father so dear?

Coming over the top of the knoll
She sees a group, bedraggled and hurt
But dear to her angelic soul
For at the front, though covered in mud and dirt,

Is her father, in all his glory
The battle is over, and so is this story.
A father and daughter’s love so great
That it cheated even fate.