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Words & Music by: Rattlesnake Annie

Reservation Blues

Mr. President, tell me what you meant
When you told me weíd be walking down a better road
In the morning when I rise, see the dusty skies 
And drive my old truck down that holy road

Stand in line all day just looking for a job with pay
Oh Iíve got the Reservation Blues 
Yea Iíve got the Reservation Blues

We have no more beads
Just hungry mouths to feed
And poison waterís boiling from the ground
Whiskey each my pain, sweet love keep me sane
Oh Iíve got the Reservation Blues 

Mr. President did you know my daddy went
To that Indian talking room in Washington
Where the clearly spoken word never can be heard
And nobody knows the reservation blues

© 1989 Ann McGowan Music Inc. BMI (International Copyright Secured)




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