I come from old Manassas, with a pocket full of fun—
I killed forty Yankees with a single-barrelled gun;
It don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
Big Yankee, little Yankee, all run or die.
I saw all the Yankees at Bull Run,
They fought like the devil when the battle first begun,
But it don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you or I
They took to their heels, boys, and you ought to see ’em fly.
I saw old Fuss-and-Feathers Scott, twenty miles away,
His horses stuck up their ears, and you ought to hear ’em neigh;
But it don’t make niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
Old Scott fled like the devil, boys; root, hog, or die.
I then saw a “Tiger,” from the old Crescent City,
He cut down the Yankees without any pity:
Oh! it don’t make a diff-a-bitterence to neither you nor I,
We whipped the Yankee boys, and made the boobies cry.
I saw South Carolina, the first in the cause,
Shake the dirty Yankees till she broke all their jaws;
Oh! it don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
South Carolina give ’em—boys; root, hog, or die.
I saw old Virginia, standing firm and true,
She fought mighty hard to whip the dirty crew;
Oh! it don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
Old Virginia’s blood and thunder, boys; root, hog, or die.
I saw old Georgia, the next in the van,
She cut down the Yankees almost to a man;
Oh! it don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
Georgia’s some in a fight, boys; root, hog, or die.
I saw Alabama in the midst of the storm,
She stood like a giant in the contest so warm;
Oh! it don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
Alabama fought the Yankees, boys, till the last one did fly.
I saw Texas go in with a smile,
But I tell you what it is, she made the Yankees bile;
Oh! it don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
Texas is the devil, boys; root, hog, or die.
I saw North Carolina in the deepest of the battle,
She knocked down the Yankees and made their bones rattle;
Oh! it don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
North Carolina’s got the grit, boys; root, hog, or die.
Old Florida came in with a terrible shout,
She frightened all the Yankees till their eyes stuck out;
Oh! it don’t make a niff-a-stifference to neither you nor I,
Florida’s death on Yankees; root, hog, or die. |