#01055
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An east wind blew in the storms of time,
Where the Métis lived on the winding river;
For on a steel rail the settlers came,
To the South Saskatchewan and the land they claimed.
Then three Métis and Gabriel
Rode like the wind to wild Montana;
And on the Sweet Grass in a church of stone
They found their savior and they took him home.
Saying, "Come Riel, we'll make a stand
Here at Batoche, beside the river;
Ah, never mind their Gatling guns,
If we lose this time we've lost forever."
Then the bullets flew and the cannons roared,
And the Métis blood flowed like a river
Into the coulees where they ran to hide.
It washed their dreams away and their spirit died.
Then a silence stole across the land,
The drums of war were gone forever,
But in the starlight on the barren plains,
The cry of Gabriel flies on the wind,
Saying, "Come Riel, we'll make a stand
Here at Batoche, beside the river;
Ah, never mind their Gatling guns,
If we lose this time we've lost forever."