Oh  I'm a good old rebel, now that's just what I am,
  for this fair land of freedom I do not care a damn.
  I'm glad we fit aginst it, I only wish we'd won,
  and I don't want no pardon for anything I done.
  I hate the constitution, this great republic tool,
  I hate the freedman's bureau, in uniforms of blue.
  I hate the nasty eagle with all his brags and fuss,
  the lyin, theivin, yankees I hate them worse and worse.
  I hate the yankee nation and everthing they do,
  I hate the declaration of independance too.
  I hate the glorious union, tis drippin with our blood,
  I hate their striped banner, I fit it all I could.
  I followed old mas' Robert, for four years near about,
  got wounded in three places and starved at Pint Lookout;
  I cotched the reumitism 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 million instead of what we got.
  I can't take up my musket and fight em now no more,
  but I aint gonna love em, now that is certain shore,
  and I don't want no pardon for what I was and am.
  I won't be reconstructed and I don't care a damn.
 
 Written in 1865 by Innes Randolf
  Sung to the tune of "Joe Bowers",an Irish ballad.