I hates the Declaration
Of Independence too.
I hates the glorious Union --
'Tis dripping with our blood --
I hates their striped banner,
And I fit it all I could.
I rode with Robert E. Lee,
For three years, thereabouts.
Got wounded in four places
And starved at Point Lookout.
I caughts the rheumatism
A-camping in the snow.
But I killed a chance of Yankees
And I'd like to kill some mo'.
Three hundred thousand Yankees
Lie still in Southern dust
We got three hundred thousand
Before they conquered us.
They died of Southern fever
And Southern steel and shot.
I wish we'd killed three million
Instead of what we got.
I can't take up my musket
And fight 'em now no more,
But I ain't going to love 'em,
Now that is sarten sure;
I don't want no pardon
For what I was and am,
I won't be reconstructed
And I do not give a damn.
