Joan Spicer
My grandmother used to sing this song to my sisters and me. I never heard the first and last verses before looking up on the internet. Thank you to those who gave details of its origin, etc.

White man stole some loving glances,
Took the maiden to war dances,
Smoked a pipe of peace; took chances,
Living in a tee pee made of fir.

Rode with her on an Indian pony.
Gave her a diamond ring - of phoney,
Then he spoke these loving words to her:

"You are my pretty little Indian Naponee,
Won't you take a chance and marry me?
Your father is the chief, 'tis my belief,
To a very merry wedding, he'll agree.
True, you're a dark little Indian maid,
But I'll sunburn to a darker shade.
I'll wear feathers on my head.
Paint my face an Indian red,
If you'll only be my naponee!"

(Indian war chants:) Yah-yah, yah-yah; Yah-yah, yah-yah; Yah-yah, yah-yah; Yah-yah, yah-yah!
Living in a teepee made of fir! Rode with her... etc.