| Oh, the age of the inmates
|
| I remember quite freely:
|
| No younger than twelve,
|
| No older 'n seventeen.
|
| Thrown in like bandits
|
| And cast off like criminals,
|
| Inside the walls,
|
| The walls of Red Wing.
|
| From the dirty old mess hall
|
| You march to the brick wall,
|
| Too weary to talk
|
| And too tired to sing.
|
| Oh, it’s all afternoon
|
| You remember your home town,
|
| Inside the walls,
|
| The walls of Red Wing.
|
| Oh, the gates are cast iron
|
| And the walls are barbed wire.
|
| Stay far from the fence
|
| With the 'lectricity sting.
|
| And it’s keep down your head
|
| And stay in your number,
|
| Inside the walls,
|
| The walls of Red Wing.
|
| Oh, it’s fare thee well
|
| To the deep hollow dungeon,
|
| Farewell to the boardwalk
|
| That takes you to the screen.
|
| And farewell to the minutes
|
| They threaten you with it,
|
| Inside the walls,
|
| The walls of Red Wing. |