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
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
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