Sung by Mrs. Delia Kerr
DaValls Bluff, Ark.
Nov. 13, 1953
The Indian Napponee
Out on an Indian reservation.
Far away from civilization,
Where the feet of paleface seldom trod,
White man went to fish one summer,
Met an Indian girl, a hummer,
Daughter of the big Chief Spare-the-Rod.
White man threw some loving glances,
Took the maiden to war dances,
Smoked his pipe-of-peace, took chances
Living in the teepee made of fur.
Rode with her on an Indian pony,
Gave her a diamond ring, a phony,
Then he sang these loving words to hers
You are my pretty little Indian Napponee,
Won't you take a chance and marry me?
Though your father is a chief
'Tis my belief,
To a very merry wedding he'll agree.
True you're a dark little Indian maid,
But I'll sunburn to a darker shade,
I'll wear feathers on my head,
Paint my face to an Indian red,
If you'll only be my Napponee.
Sorry to say the coon-talk caught her,
Soon he married the Big Chief's daughter,
Happiest couple that you ever saw.
Soon his dreams of love had faded,
Napponee looked old and jaded,
Just about like any other squaw.
Soon pappooses came in numbers,
Redskin yells disturb his slumbers,
White man wonders at his blunders
While the feathers droop upon his head.
Too late now, but still he's wishing
That he'd never gone a-fishing
Or had met this Indian girl and said:
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