They traveled by night
and rested by day ...
Got up and moved
like cattle strayed.

Sometimes in the shade
of a tree they slept ...
and mostly she saw
that even braves wept.

Driven, driven,
onward through the cold.
No mercy for the little ones,
or the ones so very old.

They fell to the ground
like the mighty buffalo.
How much could they endure?
How much further could they go?

She summoned the mighty spirits
to lead the best of the best ...
then she laid down
her weary soul to rest.

The youthful Cherokee maiden
did not give up her right.
Yet the spirits took her home
one cold, dark night.

Buried on the trail.
Her tears dried on the sand.
Taken beyond this earth
to the great spirit land.

If you go out tonight
and gaze at the clear black sky ...
you'll see the Maiden Of The Cherokee
as she sparkles on high.

Remember her story.
To others take time to tell
how she walked the Trail Of Tears,
now with the spirits she dwells.