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