Drive with dad on Seneca Reservation land
On a day of hunting
All in fall colors grand
Can you see their homes hidden in the wood
Those little shacks of tar paper
By the streams where they stood
I would like to live here some day
Father nodded in
silence as he drove
Why he asked this question I really can’t say
There is no running water in a tar paper place
Would you still like to live there
Oh
yes I could go to the stream to wash my face
There is no soap to wash your face or hand
Would you still like to live there
Oh yes, I could go to the stream and scrub with sand
There is no indoor plumbing to go when you please
Would you still like to live there
Oh yes I could go behind trees
Would you live there
in winter with cold and deep snow
Oh no