Horses gallery

Run to the Hills

White man came across the sea,
He brought us pain and misery.
He killed our tribes, he killed our creed,
He took our game for his own need.
We fought him hard, we fought him well,
Out on the plains we gave him hell.
But many came, too much for Cree,
Oh, will we ever be set free?
Riding through dustclouds and barren wastes,
Galloping hard on the plains.

Photographer gallery Music Art Draughtsman