Here's a few more verses and verse variants for "The Unreconstructed Rebel" (I'm A Good Old Rebel, The Song of the Rebel Soldier, The Old Unreconstructed)

I hates the Yankee nation and everything they do
I hates the Declaration of Independence, too
I hates the glorious Union- 'Tis dripping with our blood
I hates their striped banner, I fit it all I could.

I followed old Mas' Robert for four year, near about
Got wounded in three places and starved at Pint Lookout
(alternate: I fit with Stonewall Jackson, of that there is no doubt
Got wounded in the Wilderness, and starved at Camp Lookout)
I cotched the roomatism a campin' in the snow
But I killed a chance o' Yankees, I'd like to kill some more.

Oh we routed Hooker's Army for the bold Confederacy
And we rode beneath the Stars and Bars in Stuart's Cavalry
We fought against the Yankees and we whipped 'em where we could
And if they would of turned us loose we might have beat 'em good.

Now I hate your starry banner for it's gory with my blood
As for your constitution, suh, to me that's same as mud
We fought that out in Kennesaw amidst the stones and dust
And we got ten thousand Yankees there before the rest got us.

Now I hate your Freedman's Bureau and I hate your boys in blue
That chicken-snaggin, scalawaggin, carpet-baggin' crew
For I am jist a Rebel, suh, and that is all I am
I won't be reconstructed, and I don't give a damn!

We sunk the ship at Sumpter, we broke her plumb in two
And we showed the bully Yankees just what we aimed to do
At a little crick called Bull Run, we took their starry rag
To wipe our horses down with, and I ain't here to brag.

We whupped the best they sent us, and we whupped 'em fair an true
We whupped their German immigrants and they Eyetalians too
We whupped Frogs and Square Heads and all their furrin might
But when the wen and got the Micks, we knew we'd got a fight.

There aren't many left of us who rode out at the start
And them that are, are weary, weak in body, sad of heart
But we fit a fight to tell about, and I am here to say
I'll climb my hoss and folla Marse to hell come any day.

Shout: To hell with you and your federalized abolitionist army!

There is also an alternative second line to the verse cited above by John N - that makes it even more vile if that is possible.

And when it come to lynchin' I was the right-hand man.

I have seen some reports that the song may have started out more as a mocking satire rather than the bitter protestation of defeat that it has become. The most commonly used tune appears to be derived from "Villikins & His Dinah"

rich r