The white man was silly
He tried to buy the hill;
He thought it had gold
Like the superstition of old.
He said a Navajo chief
Had sold him a map.
So, then we told him
The map was crap.
Well, he laughed and then
He gave his knee a slap
And continued believing
He had a treasure map.
He bought some equipment,
About the price of his car,
But he hasn’t found anything
Like gold or silver so far.
Oh, hell yeah, we let him,
Once he ignored our advice.
After all we live here and
We were trying to be nice.
So, the guy from the city
Went to where it said dig
And set himself up a tent
And some kind of a rig.
He worked all day each day
And every day of the week
Knowing he was on the path
Of finding what he should seek;
That half-baked idea of his
Of getting filthy rich really quick.
And us telling him he was taken?
He wouldn’t let that idea stick.
So, we didn’t laugh later
When he came back into town
And sold his gear at half price.
We didn’t call him a big clown.
We treated him as if he were nuts
Or high on some bad marijuana.
And that’s why we call that hill
By the rude name of Belegana.
