Her knight, death has taken
Now alone to keep the flame,
Burning hot through all the years
The famous Custer name.

Quite a beauty Libbie was
Dark hair and ample curve
Custer a meteor, soaring fast
Blessed with too much nerve.

Romance bloomed in time of war
Spawning splendor true
Battles raging night and day
Fought ‘tween gray and blue.

Union victories all too few
McClelland told to go
Lincoln looks for new command
To subdue the Wiley foe.

Sherman burns the countryside
Phil Sheridan is the torch
The Union cuts the South to pieces
Nothing left to scorch.

Thundering charges on battlefields
Custer on a steed
Long hair, red tie, blue and gold
Grandeur was his need.

Desire smolders, dreams erotic
Their letters filled with passion
Too far away for warm embrace
Love is on a ration.

At a farmhouse in Virginia
It all came to an end
Lee and Grant sign surrender papers
A nation, left to mend.

Together, lovers reunited
Sent out to guard the plains
To meet the red man face to face
And shoot buffalo from trains.

Guidons fly and sabers rattle
Torrid lovers swoon
Making love inside a tent
Underneath the moon. 

Chasing phantoms ‘cross the prairie
Exhaustion doesn’t matter
Illusive prey without a trace
Who always run, then scatter.

Lonely hearts, too much to bear
A jolting race to seek
A steamy rendezvous with Libbie
Nights alone are bleak.

Impulsive actions, Custer takes
Leaving his command
Charges pressed as men were lost
Guilty is the brand.

Now a year in banished exile
Blistering disgrace
But the Cheyenne must be punished hard
A chance to soon save face.

Attack at dawn in first light
Frozen bugles blaring
Barking dogs and sleeping children
Ponies cold and staring.

The village burned, a total rout 
Officers reporting
Eight hundred ponies under slaughter
Spewing blood and snorting.

Benteen presses Custer hard
Buglers sound recall
To locate Major Elliott’s men
As night begins to fall.

A great victory, Custer claims
As Sheridan sings his praises
Washita memories do not die
Cheyenne vengeance blazes.

Making home at Fort Lincoln
Once again to share a kiss
Parties, dances, ladies’ luncheons
For children they would wish.

Expeditions seeking gold
Treaties torn asunder
White men come on iron horses
Warriors blamed for plunder.

People living by the chase
A clashing of two cultures
Black Hills gold rush, it begins
Miners come like vultures. 

The cherished hills called Paha Sapa
Promised by a treaty
Would now be stolen cold, outright
By politicians, greedy.

Men in power ponder such
Edicts drawn and cast
Sitting Bull says no to bacon
White promises don’t last.

Grant decides to chase the roamers
From their sacred ground
General Sheridan makes a plan
Custer is the hound.

The 7th Cavalry leaves Fort Lincoln
Goodbyes will be eternal
A sad true lover kisses him
The doomed lieutenant colonel.

He met his maker on that Sunday
As his angel feared
On a dusty hilltop distant
Now to be revered. 

Fifty-seven years would pass
Before they’d reunite
Years spent pledged to fame and glory
Honoring the fight.

Endless nights with one heart beating
Awakened by her screams
Lord, she longed for her last breath
All alone with dreams.

Now final rest did come to pass
For both, each other found
At old West Point Libbie sleeps once more
With her knight beneath the ground.