Seven Little Indians

There were seven little Indians Living in a brick house on Central Avenue Gathered 'round their daddy Tellin' stories in the living room From a slightly unrealistic point of view Momma was off yonder in the kitchen somewhere Boiling up some hot water for them to all get up to their necks in The seven little Indians new If the rest of the tribe ever scrutinized their household Somehow it would not pass inspection The big chief railed on And spun his tales of brave conquest About the moving of his little band Up to Alaska Where the caribou run free See he had been there putting in telephone lines For the army during World War II Even brought back a picture of a frozen mastodon For the little Indians to see And some mukluks and some sealskin gloves And a coat with beads around the collar His wife kept them in the mothballs Underneath the Hudson Bays