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American Ballads and Folk Songs
I hates the Freedmen's Bureau, In uniforms of blue. I hates the nasty eagle, With all his brag and fussj But the lyin5, thievin5 Yankees, I hates 'em wuss and wuss.
I hates the Yankee nation, And everything they doj I hates the Declaration Of Independence too. I hates the glorious Union, 'Tis dripping with our blood 5 And I hates the striped banner— I fit it all I could.
I followed old Marse Robert For four years, near about. Got wounded in three places, And starved at Point Lookout. I cotch the roomatism A-campin' in the snow, But I killed a chance of Yankees— And I'd like to kill some mo3.
Three hundred thousand Yankees Is stiff Southern dust 3 We got three hundred thousand Befo' they conquered us. They died of Southern fever And Southern steel and shot; And I wish it was three million Instead of what we got.
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