The fellow dies, is laid out, whiskey spills out on him, the water of life, and needless to say he rises from the dead. What else would he do?
The best one yet!
The fellow dies, is laid out, whiskey spills out on him, the water of life, and needless to say he rises from the dead. What else would he do?
“I’M A GOOD OLD REBEL”
Oh, I’m a good old Rebel
Now that’s just what I am.
For this Yankee nation
I do not give a damn.
I’m glad I fought agin her,
I only wish we’d won.
I ain’t asked any pardon
For anything I’ve done.
I hates the yankee nation
And everything they do,
I hates the declaration
Of independence, too;
I hates the glorious union-
’tis dripping with our blood-
And I hates their striped banner,
I fought 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 they were three millions
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 certain 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.
The coal oil lantern belongs on the mantelpiece as the fiddle and bow belonged to a cowboy named Bev Greenwood. Despite his sober looks, he could make “Turkey in the Straw” dance.