Sambo's Right to Be Kilt

Some tell us ’t is a burnin’ shame To make the naygers fight; An’ that the thrade of bein’ kilt Belongs but to the white: But as for me, upon my sowl! So liberal are we here, I ’ll let Sambo be murthered instead of myself, On every day in the year. On every day in the year, boys, And in every hour of the day; The right to be kilt I ’ll divide wid him, An’ divil a word I ’ll say. In battle’s wild commotion I should n’t at all object If Sambo’s body should stop a ball That was comin’ for me direct; And the prod of a Southern bagnet, So ginerous are we here, I ’ll resign, and let Sambo take it On every day in the year. On every day in the year, boys, And wid none o’ your nasty pride, All my right in a Southern bagnet prod Wid Sambo I ’ll divide! The men who object to Sambo Should take his place and fight; And it ’s betther to have a nayger’s hue Than a liver that ’s wake an’ white. Though Sambo ’s black as the ace of spades, His finger a thrigger can pull, And his eye runs sthraight on the barrel-sights From undher its thatch of wool. So hear me all, boys darlin’, Don’t think I ’m tippin’ you chaff, The right to be kilt we ’ll divide wid him, And give him the largest half!