I know a rude version :

RED WING

There once was an Indian maid
Who always was afraid
Of anyone who might stick it up her flue
As she lay in the shade.
She had an idea so grand -
She filled her flue with sand
So that anyone who might stick it up her flue
Would never reach the promised land.

And the moon shone bright on little Red Wing
As she lay sleeping
There came a-creeping
A handsome cowboy with eyes a-peeping
Around the flip-flap of Red Wing's tepee.

Red Wing sprang to life -
She grabbed a Bowie knife-
With a backhand flick she severed his
(wonder what rhymes with 'flick'?)
And blighted his sexual life.

And the moon shines bright on little Red Wing
And in the morning
There hung a warning -
A pair of cowboy's balls adorning
The flip-flap of Red Wing's tepee.

I's't get me coat . . .