I hate everything that I loved before

Rings pin my hand to the river floor

The waiting birds say to struggle free

Well I could take it or leave it but for now I’ll just leave it be

Way upon the Swanee River

The mournful owls and egrets call

You swore and called me Indian giver

But the Indians gave it all

The swollen limbs of the cypress trees

Swung overhead like a dead trapeze

A white tail deer raised her head at me

But I went under with a sigh before I even got the chance to see

Way upon the Swanee River

The mournful owls and egrets call

You swore and called me Indian giver

But the Indians gave it all

Yeah the Indians gave it all

My bones will rise like the eyes of Gibbon

From a tomb you built on a fine black silt

When the summer comes and the junebugs whine

I will float up where the river comes to rest on the water line

Way upon the Swanee River

The mournful owls and egrets call

You swore and called me Indian giver

But the Indians gave it all

Yeah the Indians gave it all