There is a man in Old Virginny,
His name is GENERAL LEE;
A scourge to every Yankee sinner,
Before his sword they flee.
He is a man about five feet ten,
A noble looking fellow––
He risks his life for his country’s good,
He’ll make the Yankees bellow.
There’s not a man in all creation
That stands so bright and high,
In all the peoples’ estimation
To make all Yankees fly,
As General LEE the great and good,
The gallant son of the South
Will feed the Yankees with powdered food,
And cram it down their month.
He is a terror to all bad men,
A foe to every vice,
He’ll make the Yankees run away,
Like an army of old gray mice,
So here’s long life to General Lee,
And to the Southern braves,
Heaven crown their efforts with success,
They never will be slaves.