Lyrics Battle of Maxton Field - Malvina Reynolds

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 Chorus:
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 warwhoop like a joyful Lumbee man