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Calico Indians Lyrics
Oh how we used to hate the sight
Of the evil rent collector coming in the night.
Got to tithe the 40 bushels, but it don't seem right.
Up to the manor house to pay the Great Patroon.
We had taken a wilderness
And turned the Earth to bounty by the rake's caress.
Never owning what we tilled below the crescent moon.
Up to the manor house to pay the Great Patroon.
The sheriff was about to sell their cows,
Or otherwise extort the rent.
So they met in barns and in out of the way places
To scheme all night on how to gain their ends.
What do you wear for civil war in 1844
In upstate New York?
What do you wear for civil war in 1844
In upstate New York?
These Indians wore Calico dresses,
belted at the waist,
Red flannel pantaloons,
oh! Those masks were awful looking things,
With fringe around the neck.
Horns upon the forehead,
Coarse animal hair glued on for a beard.
At this pow-wow among the grotesque,
The chief wore a striped calico long lady's dress.
Blow the tin dinner horn over the valley.
Call all the formerly normal men to revolt and rally.
The Feudal Land Laws should be abolished.
What are you waiting for? it's 1844!
The worm has begun to turn
I saw those Calicos scorn and spurn their accusers
with threatening talk and rough, tough, threatening gestures.
The feeling waxed stronger and stronger.
(Stronger and stronger)
They tried to talk like real Indians might-
"Me want cider," and the like.
Many a head had worn this crown of feathers,
had tried to be the leader of the Anti-Rent Rioters.
I recognized it as having belonged to a left-handed neighbor,
a real indian man called Sander-Vatheverander.
Blow the tin dinner horn over the valley.
Call all the formerly normal men to revolt and rally.
The Feudal Land Laws should be abolished.
What are you waiting for? it's 1844?
The worm has begun to turn
Three, four, five, waaah!
Waaah!
Of the evil rent collector coming in the night.
Got to tithe the 40 bushels, but it don't seem right.
Up to the manor house to pay the Great Patroon.
And turned the Earth to bounty by the rake's caress.
Never owning what we tilled below the crescent moon.
Up to the manor house to pay the Great Patroon.
Or otherwise extort the rent.
So they met in barns and in out of the way places
To scheme all night on how to gain their ends.
What do you wear for civil war in 1844
In upstate New York?
What do you wear for civil war in 1844
In upstate New York?
belted at the waist,
Red flannel pantaloons,
oh! Those masks were awful looking things,
With fringe around the neck.
Horns upon the forehead,
Coarse animal hair glued on for a beard.
At this pow-wow among the grotesque,
The chief wore a striped calico long lady's dress.
Call all the formerly normal men to revolt and rally.
The Feudal Land Laws should be abolished.
What are you waiting for? it's 1844!
The worm has begun to turn
with threatening talk and rough, tough, threatening gestures.
The feeling waxed stronger and stronger.
(Stronger and stronger)
They tried to talk like real Indians might-
"Me want cider," and the like.
Many a head had worn this crown of feathers,
had tried to be the leader of the Anti-Rent Rioters.
I recognized it as having belonged to a left-handed neighbor,
a real indian man called Sander-Vatheverander.
Call all the formerly normal men to revolt and rally.
The Feudal Land Laws should be abolished.
What are you waiting for? it's 1844?
The worm has begun to turn
Waaah!
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The intro is fucking embarrassing
[Edit: The only time in 30 years I was like "what the fuck Melora?"]
From Rasputina's website back in 2010:
Notes from Sister Kinderhook
Calico Indians
For these lyrics, I am indebted to Clara Barrus. At the time I was researching the song, I thought I was studying the writings of an unknown historical-society-lady; that her words were from some obscure mimeographed pamphlet. But in actuality, she's a fascinating woman. She wrote this book: Nursing the Insane.
Clara Barrus was some kind of partner (hm) to John Burroughs, who was a naturalist akin to Thoreau, and a buddy of Walt Whitman. Clara's spirited account of the Anti-Rent wars is actually John Burroughs experience and memories.
In the song, I give much space to description of the rebels' costume. It was just so drag and weird — I love it.
Read up yourself on this obscure rebellion. It was a real serf situation. Ay, by Rasputina Field-Trip™, I've visited the manorial home of the biggest Patroon.