Once there was a mountain man who couldnât write his name,
yet he deserves a front row seat in historyâs hall of fame.
He forgot more about the Indians than we will ever know,
he spoke the language of the Sioux
the Blackfoot and the Crow.
Letâs drink to old Jim Bridger, yes, lift your glasses high,
as long as thereâs a USA, donât let his memory die.
That he was making history, never once occurred to him,
but I doubt if weâd a been here, if it werenât for men like Jim.
He spoke with General Custer and said, âListen, Yellow Hair,
the Sioux were a great nation, so treat them fair and square.
Sit in on their war council, donât laugh away their pride,
but Custer didnât listen, at Little Big Horn Custer died.
Letâs drink to old Jim Bridger, yes, lift your glasses high,
as long as thereâs a USA, donât let his memory die.
That he was making history, never once occurred to him,
but I doubt if weâd a been here, if it werenât for men like Jim.
Thereâs poems and thereâs legends that tell of Carsonâs fame,
yet compared to Jim Bridger, Kit was civilized and tame.
These words are straight from Carsonâs lips,
if you place such store by him,
if thereâs a man who knows this gun â forsaken land itâs Jim.
Letâs drink to old Jim Bridger, yes, lift your glasses high,
as long as thereâs a USA, donât let his memory die.
That he was making history, never once occurred to him,
but I doubt if weâd a been here, if it werenât for men like Jim.
