I'm not sure if this is pertinent to this thread, but I was handed these words years ago by Mr McCoy. I'm sure he would be happy for me to publish them. I have just OCR'd the original type written sheet.
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Copyright : Tim McCoy, 56 curate Road, Anfield, Liverpool 6.
OH MY SONS?. MY SONS.
To be sung to the tune of John Brown's Body.

Oh, Mr. President from the White House, please help me if you can,
Help me to find my boy's assassin, he was a fine family man.
If your skin was black, yellow or brown,
He would help them with their troubles and never let them down.
Oh my poor heart is broken, what shall a poor mother do.
I lost my poor first son in World War Two.
All countries should get together, and let us all plan
Let's pray for peace and for those poor boys in Vietnam.
Oh, Mr. President, what can a poor mother do,
It's not long since I lost my son Jack and now it's Robert too.
Please let's get together, let's all plan
Let's pray for peace, I think we all can.
My Robert and Ethel were at the Ambassador's Hall last night,
There was a shot from a pistol somewhere in sight,
He fell to the floor with his head bent low,
She placed his head in her lap
But the blood began to flow.
Oh my son, my son, my poor dying son,
Don't worry, please understand,
You were fighting for the people of America,
When you were shot by the assassin band.
Pray when this trouble is all over, I know your victory shall be won.
Because I've still got one more Kennedy,
So good-bye, my dying son.
So goodbye, my dying son.
So good-bye, my dying son.
So good-bye, my dying son.