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 ES
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!