Our house was a customer on his paper route –
A guy who was in my oldest brother’s grade
Half a rebel, sometimes a whole lotta trouble
Our neighborhood’s version of Johnny Cade
He wore local aggie trucker hats
With long black hair in back
In his rad El Camino
He had a bitchin’ gun rack
I asked him what he was chewin’
He spit a little out
Some got on his Vans shoe
He then said “Here’s whatcha gotta do…
Don’t get Copenhagen
You’ll get a ring in your jeans
And stay away from Skoal
Cause it tastes like beans
If you wanna get a classic
You sure as hellfire can
I love this tobacco
I’m a Red Man Man.”
Back then ballplayers didn’t spit out seeds
They didn’t chew gum, they put in a pinch
From a white pouch with a face on the label
That was of an American Indian
So I checked the local gas station
And figured out which one they used
But the clerk wouldn’t let me buy it
Then I came down with the underage blues
I couldn’t get Copenhagen
I couldn’t get that Skoal
I couldn’t get Beech Nut
To save my poor young soul
So I bought a pack of Big League
Opened it right up and took a dip
It was only bubble gum
but it didn’t hurt my lip
I told our paper route teenager
I couldn’t buy any of that Red Man
That I couldn’t even buy Beech Nut
Or that Skoal that came in the can
But I found this Big-League chew
I’ll chew it ‘til I can get that stuff
He looked at me and he said
“One day like me, you’ll be tuff.”
‘member don’t get Copenhagen
You’ll get a ring in your jeans
And stay away from Skoal Bandits
Cause they taste like beans
If you wanna get a classic
You sure as hellfire will
Be a Red Man Man like yours truly
And we’ll hang out at Whiskey Hill
Be a Red Man Man like yours truly
And we’ll hang out at Whiskey Hill.
2017