Южная версия песни "When [bad word] Marching Home" времен гражданской войны в Америке

When [bad word] marching home again
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty [bad word] then
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The men will cheer and the boys will shout
The ladies they will all turn out
And we'll all feel [bad word] 
When [bad word] marching home.

The old church bell will peal with joy
Hurrah! Hurrah!
To [bad word] home our darling boy,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The village lads and lassies say
With roses they will strew the way,
And we'll all feel [bad word] 
When [bad word] marching home.

Get ready for the Jubilee,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give the hero three times three,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The laurel wreath is ready now
To place upon his loyal brow
And we'll all feel [bad word] 
When [bad word] marching home.

Let love and friendship on that day,
Hurrah, hurrah!
Their choicest pleasures then display,
Hurrah, hurrah!
And let each one perform some part,
To fill with joy the warrior's heart,
And we'll all feel [bad word] 
When [bad word] marching home.

In eighteen hundred and sixty one
For bowls, for bowls,
In eighteen hundred and sixty one
For bowls, says I,
In eighteen hundred and sixty one
Abe Lincoln went to Washington
And we'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny fill up the bowl!

In eighteen hundred and sixty two
For bowls, for bowls,
In eighteen hundred and sixty two
For bowls, says I,
In eighteen hundred and sixty two
Old Abe he put the rebellion through.
And we'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny fill up the bowl!

In eighteen hundred and sixty three
For bowls, for bowls,
In eighteen hundred and sixty three
For bowls, says I,
In eighteen hundred and sixty three
Old Abe he set the darkies free.
And we'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny fill up the bowl!

In eighteen hundred and sixty four
For bowls, for bowls,
In eighteen hundred and sixty four
For bowls, says I,
In eighteen hundred and sixty four
Old Abe he calleed for a million more.
And we'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny fill up the bowl!

In eighteen hundred and sixty five
For bowls, for bowls,
In eighteen hundred and sixty five
For bowls, says I,
In eighteen hundred and sixty five
John Wilkes Booth took Lincoln's life.
And we'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny fill up the bowl!