My father married a pure Cherokee
My mother's people were ashamed of me
The Indians said I was white by law
The White Man always called me "Indian Squaw"
*Half-breed, that's all I ever heard
Half-breed, how I learned to hate the word
Half-breed, she's no good they warned
Both sides were against me since the day I was born
We never settled, went from town to town
When you're not welcome you don't hang around
The other children always laughed at me
"Give her a feather, she's a Cherokee" (*)
We weren't accepted and I felt ashamed
Nineteen I left them, tell me who's to blame
My life since then has been from man to man
But I can't run away from what I am (*)
I was born in the wagon of a traveling show
My momma used to dance for the money they'd throw
Papa would do whatever he could
Preach a little Gospel
Sell a couple bottles of Dr. Good
Gypsies, tramps and thieves
We'd hear it from the people of the town
They'd call us
Gypsies, tramps and thieves
But every night all the men would come around
And lay their money down
Picked up a boy just south of Mobile
Gave him a ride, filled him with a hot meal
I was 16, he was 21
Rode with us to Memphis
And Papa would've shot him if he knew what he'd done
I never had schooling
But he taught me well with his smooth, southern style
Three months later I'm a gal in trouble
And I haven't seen him for a while
I haven't seen him for a while
She was born in the wagon of a traveling show
Her momma used to dance for the money they'd throw
Grandpa would do whatever he could
Preach a little Gospel
Sell a couple bottles of Dr. Good