Indian War Whoop

I got up this morning, put my shoes on wrong
Just thinking about my short time here and my long time gone
I tried to farm the hillside, could not make it pay
Rain came down the mountain and washed the farm away

I don't have a mailbox, never felt the need
I don't get many letters, I never learned to read
Oh, there's nothing to do but sit down and sing
I'll rock about my Saro Jane

I used to go courtin', that was a long way back
I have since decided there isn't much in that
My father was a singer, he used to sing so loud
You could hear him for a mile, but you can't hear him now
Oh, there's nothing to do but sit down and sing
I'll rock about my Saro Jane

There's times I go out drinking and get to worrying
When I've got something on my mind something makes me sing
Sometimes I get the feeling I'm sort of like that song
My good times are all over, all my good times past and gone
Oh, there's nothing to do but sit down and sing
I'll rock about my Saro Jane

Well, there's no use in crying so I'm not going to cry
I'll just keep on living until the day I die
I got up this morning, put my shoes on wrong
Just thinking about my short time here and my long time gone