I am a good old rebel, that is just what I am
For this fair land of freedom I do not care a damn
I'm glad I fought against it but I only wished I'd won
And I don't want a pardon for anything I've done
I hate the constitution, this great republic too!
I hate the Freedman's Bureau in uniforms so blue!
I hate the nasty eagle with all the brag and fuss
And the lying, thieving Yankees, I hate 'em worse and worse!
I hate the Yankee nation and everything they do
I hate the Declaration of Independence too!
I hate the glorious Union, 'tis dripping with our blood
And I hate their Yankee banner and I fought it all I could!
I followed old Marse Robert for four year near about
Got wounded in three place and starved at Point Lookout*
I caught the rheumatism a-campin' in the snow
But I caught a choice of Yankees and I wish I'd caught some more
Three hundred thousand Yankees lie stiff in Southern dust
We got three hundred thousand before they conquered us.
They died of Southern fever, Southern steel and shot
And I wish it was three million instead of what we got.
I can't take up my musket and fight 'em now no more
But I ain't goin' to love 'em now that's certain sure
And I don't want no pardon for what I was and am
And I won't be reconstructed and I don't give a damn.
Пойнт Лукаут - это концлагерь такой был для пленных южан.
Юг восстанет вновь!
Только Массачучеттс и Коннектикут, только Айви Стэйтс!
И старина Томас Джексон в бой нас поведёт!