The Battle of Maxton Field

Now brave the Klansmen rallied there
In Maxton town that night
All armed with knives and pistol guns
And honin' for a fight
Oh, rally round, you Klansmen bold
But do not show your face
We'll burn the fiery cross tonight
And save the Nordic race

Oh, the Klan, Oh the Klan
It calls on ev'ry red blood fighting man
Who is free and white and bigot
Gets his courage from a spigot
And protects his racial purity the
Very best he can the Indians, the Indians
They are our natural foe
They lure our girls with coke and pie
And take them to the show
They wear bluе jeans and leather coats
But anyonе can see
They are not real Americans
The like of you and me
The heroes left their stores and plows
Their pool halls and their bars
And in their gallant hooded shirts
They drove up in their cars
For in this grave emergency
That mustered every soul
Who should appear to lead the
Fight but Wizard Jimmy Kole

Now as the cars were drawing in
An ominous sound was heard
Was that an Indian battle cry
Or just a gooney bird?
Is that a gooney bird I
See or Grandpa's fighting cock
Or is it a Lumbee war-bonnet
That comes from Chimney Rock

The headlights shone
The Klansmen stood in circle brave and fine
When suddenly a whoop was heard
That curdled every spine
An Indian youth with steely eyes
He sauntered in alone
He calmly drew his shootin' iron
And conked the microphone

Another shot, the light went out
There was a moment's hush
Then a hundred thousand Lumbee boys
Came screaming from the brush
Well, maybe not a million quite
But surely more than four
And the Klansmen shook from head to
Foot and headed for the door

The Lumbee Indians whooped and howled
In the ancient Lumbee way
And the Klansmen melted off the ground
Like snow on a sunny day
Our histories will long record
That perilous advance
When many a Klansman left the field
With buckshot in his pants

The coppers listened from afar
They did not lift a gun
They heard the noise, they said
"The boys are having a little fun"
But when they saw the nightshirt
Lads trooping down the road
They knew that something went amiss
The wrong switch had been throwed
When the coppers reached the battlefield
They saw no single soul in Pembroke town
The Indians were hanging Jimmy Kole
Not James himself, for he had fled with his
Shirt tail hanging free
But all the joyful Lumbee boys
They hanged his effigy

Oh, the Klan, Oh, the Klan
They've hung their little nightshirts
In the can if you want to see them run
Shoot a pistol toward the sun
And give an Indian war whoop
Like a joyful Lumbee man