SONGS OF A DIE-HARD
Die-Hard.
A Die-Hardis a man who only caresTo serve his land, in speechless self-denying,Yea, even to the Death!—provided there’sSome other idiot to do the dying.
A Die-Hardis a man who only caresTo serve his land, in speechless self-denying,Yea, even to the Death!—provided there’sSome other idiot to do the dying.
A Die-Hardis a man who only caresTo serve his land, in speechless self-denying,Yea, even to the Death!—provided there’sSome other idiot to do the dying.
A Die-Hardis a man who only cares
To serve his land, in speechless self-denying,
Yea, even to the Death!—provided there’s
Some other idiot to do the dying.
CHORUS.
(Suitable to be sung at Anti-Proletarian Sunday Schools.)
Far away in sunny Alabamma,Where the pickaninny cotton-bushes grow,You can flatten out a nigger with a hammerOr put it well across him with your toe.That’s the way to deal with subject races(Subject populations kindly note!),Tie them up, and flog them with your braces,Probably they haven’t got a vote.Keep inferiors in their proper station,Don’t allow the brutes to make a fuss.In the many marvels of creationNothing’s fit to kiss the boots of US.
Far away in sunny Alabamma,Where the pickaninny cotton-bushes grow,You can flatten out a nigger with a hammerOr put it well across him with your toe.That’s the way to deal with subject races(Subject populations kindly note!),Tie them up, and flog them with your braces,Probably they haven’t got a vote.Keep inferiors in their proper station,Don’t allow the brutes to make a fuss.In the many marvels of creationNothing’s fit to kiss the boots of US.
Far away in sunny Alabamma,Where the pickaninny cotton-bushes grow,You can flatten out a nigger with a hammerOr put it well across him with your toe.That’s the way to deal with subject races(Subject populations kindly note!),Tie them up, and flog them with your braces,Probably they haven’t got a vote.Keep inferiors in their proper station,Don’t allow the brutes to make a fuss.In the many marvels of creationNothing’s fit to kiss the boots of US.
Far away in sunny Alabamma,
Where the pickaninny cotton-bushes grow,
You can flatten out a nigger with a hammer
Or put it well across him with your toe.
That’s the way to deal with subject races
(Subject populations kindly note!),
Tie them up, and flog them with your braces,
Probably they haven’t got a vote.
Keep inferiors in their proper station,
Don’t allow the brutes to make a fuss.
In the many marvels of creation
Nothing’s fit to kiss the boots of US.