We heard a thousand Yankees, well I'm dead on that Southern thing,
We got three hundred thousand, all they ever got next to us.
They gather the Southern people at an old Southern steel shop,
And I wish we'd got three million more, mud we've got.
I can't take off my musket, fire now no more,
But I ain't gonna rebel, yes I got damn sure.
You don't want no part in what I've done or am,
And I will not be reconstructed and I do not give a damn.