All alone in a wigwam
In eighteen sixty-three
There lived a fair Indian maiden
They calledher Fallen Leaves

Pretty as the stars up above you
Fair as the moon in the trees
Because she was born in October
They called her Fallen Leaves

There came a trooper one morning
Just at the break of day
He stopped to rest at the wigwam
Of the shy little Indian maid

Fallen Leaves the breezes whispered
Fallen Leaves the breezes sighed
When he rode on that evening
Fallen Leaves rode by his side

One night while she lay sleeping
The moon was shining bright
He stole away from the campfire
Then rode into the night

Fallen Leaves the breezes whispered
Fallen Leaves the breezes sighed
Our in that lonesome old forest
Fallen Leaves she lingered and died