Quoted By:
3 hundred thousand Yankees
Is stiff in southern dust.
We got 3 hundred thousand
Before they conquered us
They died of Southern Fever
And southern steel and shot
I wish there were 3 million
Instead of what we got.
I can't pick up my musket
And fight 'um down no more
But I ain't gonna love 'um
Now that is certain sure
And I don't want no pardon
For what I was and am
I won't be reconstructed
And I do not give a damn