Classic Poem

Which-a-way
which-a-way
do that blood red river run?
Run from my wondow
to that rising sun.

Now that dumper
says, Loader,
please send me six foot of clay,
'cause that blood red river, mama,
is rising six foot a day.

Go down
to the camp,
and tell my brother Bill,
the woman he's loving is
sure gonna get him killed.


(yeah)

Now reason why
these here men
they sure don't draw no more,
right from that long table
back to that commissary door.

Now I love
to hear
that M & O whistle blow;
I'm in a world of trouble, God
knows, and I got to go.


(yeah) (yeah)

Now I got
two women,
and I don't know one apart:
there's one in my bosom,
t'other one in my heart.