Oh, I'm a good ol Rebel, Now that's just what I am;
For this fair Land of Freedom
I do not give a [bad word] 
I'm glad I fought against it— I only wish we'd won,
And I don't want no pardon For anything I've done.
I hates the Constitution, This great Republic, too;
I hates the Freedmen's Bureau, In uniforms of blue.
I hates the nasty eagle, With all his brag and fuss;
The lyin', thieving Yankees, I hates 'em worse and worse.

I hate the Yankee Nation And everything they do;
I hate the Declaration Of Independence, too.
I hates the glorious Union, 'Tis drippin' with our blood;
I hates the striped banner— I fought it all I could.
I followed old Mars Robert For four years near about,
Got wounded in three places, And starved at Point Lookout.
I catched the rheumatism A-campin' in the snow,
But I killed a chance of Yankees— I'd like to kill some more.

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 it was three millions Instead of what we got.
I can't take up my musket And fight 'em now no more,
But I ain't gotta love 'em, Now that's for certain sure.
And I don't want no pardon For what I was and am;
I won't be [bad word]  And I don't give a [bad word] 

I hate the Yankee Nation And everything they do;
I hate the Declaration Of Independence, too.
And I don't want no pardon For what I was and am;
I won't be [bad word]  And I don't give a [bad word]