Digital Tradition Mirror

Red Wing (3)

Red Wing (3)

There once was an Indian maid
Who always was afraid
That some buckaroo
Would fly around and fool
While she lay sleeping in the shade.

    She had an idea grand
    She filled it up with sand
    To keep the boys
    From forbidden joys
    In Red Wing's promised land

cho: Oh, the Moon shines down on pretty Red Wing
     As she lay sleeping
     This buck come creeping
     With his one good eye he was a-peeping
     He hoped to reach the promised land.

He was an Indian wise
He reached for Red Wing's thighs;
With an old rubber boot
On the end of his toot
He made poor Red Wing open up her eyes.

     When she came to life
     She grabbed her bowie knife
     It flashed in the sky
     As she let it fly
     And shortened his love life

cho: Oh the clouds go floating over Red Wing
     As she lays snoring
     Her life is boring
     Why she'd even welcome Hermann Goering
     Into the pleasure of her promised land.

note: as sung by The Highgraders, San Francisco, early 60s - ES


Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!

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