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