You folks may tire, time after time,
Of my Red Necked squaw, you find in my lines.
And though I jest, of my red necked squaw,
From her pot o’ beans, to the size of her bra,
Rest assured, she’s my light.
She’s my warmth, of many cold nights.
She’s my point, when I need a guide.
She’s my haven, when my way is tried.
She’s my strength, when I need to be brave.
She’s my soul, when I need it saved.
She’s my woman, when I’m a man.
She’s my ground, on which I stand.
She’s the reason, of my door.
She’s all this, and so much more,
She’s everything, for which I stand,
Without my squaw, I’m merely sand.