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!