The wind blew off the mountain, the clouds were sweeping low
When a ragged band of Cheyenne Indians stopped along the road
Among them was a young girl who lay dying of fever
Just about a hundred years ago.
The light was swiftly fading, the night it promised snow
They laid her in an army coat to keep her from the cold
Placed silver thimbles on her fingers so someone's god would know
She was a useful girl who could sew.
Darkness swirled around them like a curtain on a stage
The closing of a door, the turning of a page.
They say a lifetime's over in the twinkling of an eye
It hardly counts for nothing as the ages roll on by
While kings and queens and princes have left mighty works in stone
Just to let somebody know.
That's how the workmen found her, widening the road
Wrapped up in an army coat where they laid her long ago
With silver thimbles on her fingers she slept beneath the snow
A useful girl who could sew