| Caleb Brown was a mighty fine man
|
| And his skin was the color of the good rich land
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| He bought a slope-eared mule named Dan
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| And broke a little piece of ground
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| Cleared the place with his own bare hands
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| Made cotton grow in the rocks and sand
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| Thought he’d found the promised land
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| 'Til the soldiers came to town
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| Gather by the river
|
| Light a fire in the old campground
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| Stand and deliver
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| They’re burning Dixie down
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| Caleb Brown never took a side
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| Always hoped that the war would pass him by
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| Trouble came and he closed his eyes
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| Then he woke to the sound of the guns
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| They stole his chickens and the old milk cow
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| Left him nothing but a broken plow
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| He cried out «what can I do now
|
| But to wait for the kingdom come?»
|
| Gather by the river
|
| Light a fire in the old campground
|
| Stand and deliver
|
| They’re burning Dixie down
|
| Was a war, was a mighty fine war
|
| Was a war like the world never saw before
|
| The only one not keeping score
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| Was a man named Caleb Brown
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| No one knows what his eyes have seen
|
| How he washed his hands in a bloody stream
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| Buried all his hopes and dreams
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| Down in the cold, cold ground
|
| Gather by the river
|
| Light a fire in the old campground
|
| Stand and deliver
|
| They’re burning Dixie down
|
| They’re burning Dixie down |