Well, of course, this actually happened.
In the reconstruction days of the South it
got to be pretty serious when the carpet-baggers
came down and started running the whole show
down here. And things were especially rough
up in the state of Arkansas when it was
very seriously proposed to change the name
of the state. And this is taken down on the
Legislative rolls which can now be found,
I think, under the date of July the 23rd,
1867. And this is what the hometown boy
had to say. I think first he, he pulled
out his horse-pistol and laid it across
his desk so he wouldn't be interrupted.

Mr. Speaker, god-damn your soul, for more
than thirty minutes I've been trying to
get your attention but every time I caught
your eye you squirmed like a damn dog with
a flea in his ass.

I guess you know who I am Sir. My name is
Cassius M. Johnson from Jackson County,
Arkansas where a man can't stick his ass
out the window and shit without it getting
riddled with bullets. Why Sir, I was
fourteen years old before I had my first
pair of pants and they was of buckskin.
But at the age of seventeen Mr. Speaker,
I had a jock on me the size of a roasting
ear and it was the pride of Jackson County.
And you propose to change the name of Arkansas.
Never, by God Sir, never!

I'm out of order? How can I be out of order
when I can piss clear across the Mississippi
River?

Where was Andrew Jackson when the battle of
New Orleans was fit? He was right thar Sir,
up to his ass in blood. And you change the
name of Arkansas? Never, when I can defend her.

You may shit on the grave of George Washington.
Piss on the monument of Thomas Jefferson.
You may desecrate the sacred remains of the
immortal General Robert E. Lee. You may rape
the Goddess of Liberty and wipe your ass on
the Stars and Stripes. And your crime, your
crime Sir will no more compare to this hellish
design than the glow of a lightning-bug's ass
to the glare of the noon day sun. And you
propose to change the name of Arkansas.
Never, by God Sir, never!

You may compare the lily of the valley to
the glorious sunflower. Or the sun-kissed
peaks of the highest mountains to the smokin'
turd of a dunghill. Or the classic strains of
Mozart to the fart of a Mexican burrow. You
may compare the puny penis of a Peruvian prince
to the ponderous buttocks of the Roman gladiator.
But change the name of Arkansas? Never, by
God Sir, never!

Transcribed from the LP, Unepurgated Folk Songs of Men.
The performer is, reportedly, John Lomax, Jr.