Flapjacks cookin on a flat stone
Flapjacks cookin on a flat stone
Flapjacks cookin, flapjacks cookin
Flapjacks cookin on a flat stone

Begun the day under a cottonwood tree
Covered with young green leaves
Little stars of light on the bottom of the stream
Made by the sun

chorus

An Indian man dropped by my campfire
We sat there and gossiped awhile
And so did I pass the morning hours
On the day I turned 17

Colors on all sides
But the clouds came in
A raw blast blew
With some snow

Chorus

I have not yet got your letters
By the next mail I shall be in the canyons
Clear spring water, trees and open meadow
I may be alone a month

Chorus

(lyrics: Dan Bern)