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 blue jeans and leather coats

But anyone 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

Sauntered in alone

He calmly drew his shootin' iron

And conked the microphone

Another shot

The lights 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 waving free

But all the joyful Lumbee boys

They hanged his effigy

Final

Oh the Klan

Oh the Klan

They've hung their little nightshirts in the can

1

If you want to see them run

Shoot a pistol toward the sun

And give an Indian warwhoop like a joyful Lumbee man