|Scope & Content||
Copies: 1 ( 1 original newspaper clipping)
"Sends Indian Song
Requested by Reader
Dear Miss Grey: Here is the
Indian song one of your readers
Out on an Indian reservation,
Far from any civilization,
Where the foot of Pale Face seldom
White Man came to fish one summer,
Met an Indian girl, a hummer,
Daughter of Big Chief Spare-the-Rod.
White Man threw some loving glances,
Took the maiden to war dances,
Smoked the pipe of peace, took chances
Living in a tepee made of fur,
Rode with her on an Indian pony,
Gave her a diamond ring, a phoney,
Then to her these loving words he said:
'You are my pretty little Indian Napa-
Come take a chance and marry me.
Tho Daddy 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 burn to a darker shade.
I'll wear feathers on my head,
Paint my face an Indian red,
If you'll only be my Napanee.'
Sorry to say, his 'cow' talk caught her,
Soon he married the Big Chief's daugh-
Happiest coupld that you ever saw.
Soon his love for her had faded,
'Napanee' looked old and jaded,
Just about like any other squaw.
Soon papooses came in numbers,
Redskins' yells disturbed his slumbers.
Now he wonders why he blunders,
And the feathers droop upon his head.
Too late now, but still he's wishing
That he had never gone a-fishing
Or to that Indian maid had said:
CHORUS" (front of origjnal)