Lyrics

She’s a full grown woman at the age of 16
Wears a modest dress so the boys can’t see
Blonde hair locked behind a white prayer cap
If she wore it down, mother’d have her scalp

She won’t dare to leave her home
She’s got no wild oats to sow
After Sunday prayers at the church of Christ
She hopes for potluck gold with her wild rice

She loves the old hymns that her family sings
How the neighbors truly care for each other’s needs
Her brother went chasing big screen dreams
Whole town came running when mother screamed

He made that choice to leave his home
Must’ve thought the west coast needed more wild oats
Once he filled that void with needles and pipes
He lost his taste for wild rice

All the pies and casseroles made from scratch
Didn’t do a damn thing to bring her brother back
They carried him out of an opium den
And buried him with her will to sin

It’ll be this way in 50 years
Big world out there so much to fear
Every 3rd Sunday she’ll claim the prize
Of a half-lived life with her famous wild rice