Sung by Leonard W. Jones (1868-1961), for collector Sidney Robertson Cowell in Pine Grove, Calif., in 1939.

https://www.loc.gov/item/2017701788/


Oh, I’m a good old rebel, yes,
        That’s just what I am,
For this land of freedom, oh,
        I do not care a damn;
I’m glad I fought against it,
        I only wish I’d [sic] won;
I don’t ask any pardon
        For anything I done.

Now there is old Ben Butler,
            That thieving, sly old coon;
He stoled all of our silver,
             Even our silver spoons.
He burned up all our houses,
             And took our homes away;
And as the only recompense,
             We killed the Yanks for pay.

Three hundred thousand Yankees
             Now lie in Southern dust;
Yes, we got three hundred thousand
             Before they conquered us;
They died of Southern fever,
             Of Southern steel and shot;
And I wish that’d been three million
             Instid of what we got.

Now if there’s anyone in the crowd
            Don’t like the song I sing,
He can throw himself upon his back
            Jump up and flop his wings;
For I sing songs to suit myself,
            I’m just that kind of a man;
And I don’t care a damn for U.S. Grant
            Or any of his radical clan.

Those who don't like it may run around like headless chickens.

The lines about Grant and Butler presumably date from 1868, when former Union General Butler was head prosecutor in the impeachment trial of Andrew Johnson, and Ulysses Grant was elected president.

Jones's tune is somewhere between "Sam Bass" and "Son of a Gambolier."