O, I'm a good old Rebel,
Now that's just what I am,
For this "Fair Land of Freedom"
I do not care a [bad word] 

I'm glad I fit against it --
I only wish we'd won,
And I don't want no pardon
For anything I done.

I hates the Constitution,
This Great Republic too,
I hates the Freedman's Buro,
In uniforms of blue;

I hates the nasty eagle,
With all his brags and fuss,
The lyin', thievin' Yankees,
I hates them wuss and wuss.

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 --
I hates their striped banner,
I fit it all I could.

I followed old mass' Robert
For four year, near about,
Got wounded in three places
And starved at Point Lookout;

I cotch the rheumatism
campin' in the snow,
But I killed a chance of Yankees,
I'd like to kill some mo'.

Three hundred thousand Yankees
Is stiff 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 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 going to love 'em,
Now that is sarten sure;

And I don't want no pardon
For what I was and am,
I won't be [bad word] 
And I don't care a [bad word]