"Ida Red" as written by Bob Wills and Dean Moore....
Light in the parlor, fire in the grate
Clock on the mantle says it gettin' too late
Curtains in the window, snowy white
[Incomprehensible] on Sunday night

Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red
Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red

Lamp on the table, picture on the wall
There's a pretty sofa and that ain't all
If I'm not mistaken I sure am right
Somebody else in the parlor tonight

Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red
Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red

Chicken in a bread pan pickin' out dough
Granny, does your dog bite? No, child no
Hurry up boys now, don't you be slow
Y'all in a girdle like you was awhile ago

Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red
Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red

My old mistress promised me
That when she died she'd set me free
But she lived so long that her head got bald
Took the the notion not to die at all

Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red
Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red

Lights grow dim, fire's gettin' low
Somebody said it's time to go
I hear a whisper, gentle and light
Don't forget to come back Saturday night

Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red
Ida Red, Ida Red, I'm plum fool about Ida Red


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Ida Red" as written by Chris Powell

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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Ida Red song meanings
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