An Indian tribe treks on trails
Winding though the mountain woods.
An Indian girl beside her father's horse,
Leading her own dog.
Picking up an old doll,
Bring her to look at the tattered dress,
And remember the day it was lost.
A girl held it in her hands,
In her heart, recalling her love for it,
Indian Doll, Indian Doll, stay with me forever.
Indian Doll, Indian Doll, never leave me.
It a piece of history in the Indian girl's hand,
Never to be forgotten.
The history, the history.
Now it isn't seen in a tattered dress,
Or with knotted hair.
Only seen in a new buckskin dress
And silk soft hair.
And only known as Indian Doll.
High Country Communications