| Light in the parlor, fire in the grate
|
| Clock on the mantle says it gettin' too late
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| Curtains in the window, snowy white
|
| on Sunday night
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
|
| Lamp on the table, picture on the wall
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| There’s a pretty sofa and that ain’t all
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| If I’m not mistaken I sure am right
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| Somebody else in the parlor tonight
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
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| Chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough
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| Granny, does your dog bite? |
| No, child no
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| Hurry up boys now, don’t you be slow
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| Y’all in a girdle like you was awhile ago
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
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| My old mistress promised me
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| That when she died she’d set me free
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| But she lived so long that her head got bald
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| Took the the notion not to die at all
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
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| Lights grow dim, fire’s gettin' low
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| Somebody said it’s time to go
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| I hear a whisper, gentle and light
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| Don’t forget to come back Saturday night
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red
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| Ida Red, Ida Red, I’m plum fool about Ida Red |