| There’s a feeling comes a-stealing,
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| And it sets my brain a-reeling,
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| When I’m listening to the music of a military band.
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| Any tune like «Yankee Doodle»
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| Simply sets me off my noodle,
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| It’s that patriotic something that no one can understand.
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| «Way down south, in the land of cotton,»
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| Melody untiring,
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| Ain’t that inspiring?
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| Hurrah! |
| Hurrah! |
| We’ll join the jubilee!
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| And that’s going some, for the Yankees, by gum! |
| Red, white and blue, I am For you!
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| Honest, you’re a grand old flag!
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| I’m no cranky hanky panky,
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| I’m a dead square, honest Yankee,
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| And I’m mighty proud of that old flag
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| That flies for Uncle Sam.
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| Though I don’t believe in raving
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| Ev’ry time I see it waving,
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| There’s a chill runs up my back that makes me glad
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| I’m what I am.
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| Here’s a land with a million soldiers,
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| That’s if we should need 'em,
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| We’ll fight for freedom!
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| Hurrah! |
| Hurrah! |
| For every Yankee tar
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| And old G.A.R.
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| Ev’ry stripe, ev’ry star.
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| Red, white and blue,
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| Hats off to you
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| Honest, you’re a grand old flag!
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| You’re a grand old flag,
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| You’re a high flying flag
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| And forever in peace may you wave.
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| You’re the emblem of The land I love.
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| The home of the free and the brave.
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| Ev’ry heart beats true
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| 'Neath the Red, White and Blue,
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| Where there’s never a boast or brag.
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| But should auld acquaintance be forgot,
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| Keep your eye on the grand old flag. |