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Near Sturgis town, there stands a place, A site revered with pride and grace. Rows of stones, they mark the scene. Those men of war are now serene.
Flags dance on high, above them all, For those who answered freedom’s call. Some died with friends, some died alone, All buried here, Black Hills, White Stones.
Claimed by Sioux, by them patrolled, ’Til Custer came in search of gold. True riches there can still be found. The treasure rests beneath the ground.
The caskets draped, red, white, and blue. Those high in rank and privates too, Rest side by side, the way they stood. Their service was a force for good.
