Rings out by the sound of Beluthahatchee Bill;
You Kluxers tried to scare me, with your words of swill,
But you’ll never scare me none, not Beluthahatchee Bill.
Beluthahatchee Bill, old Beluthahatchee Bill,
Frccdom-lovin', freedom-huntin‘, easy-ridin’ Bill;
You can swing me and hang me, and beat me to your fill!
But you’ll never slack my speed none, not Beluthahatchee Bill.
I’m from down through South America, like mossy mossy moss,
I’m from up across old Canada, where Paul Bunyan got so lost;
I’m from Pittsburg Beer and Gary Steel, and you know I tell you true,
When I tell you I’m a Christian, a Buddhist and a Jew.
You tortured me with blow-torches, and dumped me from your car,
You tried to burn my home up, and set my woods on fire;
You can dynamite my house, and dig my grave upon the hill,
But you‘ll never keep me in it, not Beluthahatchee Bill.
Beluthahatchee Lands means Never-Never Lands,
Never-never bloodied by your bloody hands,
Never-never caught in your kid-like traps,
Never-never drained like turpentine saps,
Never-never scared by all your screams and squeals,
Never-never done in by all your dirty deals.
You can try your best to kill us, but you know you never will,
Ever scratch a finger of Beluthahatchee Bill!
Contributed by Dead End - 2012/8/27 - 15:31
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