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!