there once was an indian maid
who always was afraid
that some buckroo would fly around the flu as she lay sleeping in the shade
she had an idea grand,
shes paling uo with sand
to keep the boys from her pen joys and red wings promise land
Oh the sun shines down on pretty red wing, as she lay sleeping, this buck come creekin, well this one good eye he was a peepin, he hoped to reach the promise land.
now he was an indian wise
he reached for red wings thighs
with an old rubber boot on the end of a toot, he made with red wing over the horize but when she come to light,
she grabbed her booy night, and flashed in the sky as let a fly and shortened his love life.
oh the moon shines down on pretty red wing, as she lay snoring, her knife adoring, her no longer do the braves come horing, they wont pay the price of the promise land.
oh girl if you want to be wives, put away those knives, boys like play for fling in the hay, they don't like to pay the rest of thier lives, mind what momma said, if your lyin in your bed, if you can't obey, dont reach for a blade, have a hell of a time instead.
oh the clouds go floating over red wing,
as she lay snoring, her life is boring,
why she'd even welcome her men goring
into the pleasure of her promise land.
