I love this land of darker soil, of skin the sun has tanned.
Was gone awhile but I came back cause I am Alabam,
It's time to get back to our roots and prune the grafted damned.
The whitewashed tombs who hold the keys that Jesus threw away,
The brood of vipers spitting poison on our Alabama clay.
Get out your banjo, get out your fiddle, it's time to dance a jig,
It's time to plant a garden, and feed someone your pig.
Let's help the widows and orphans, let's feed the poor our best;
Let's take off this belt locked 'round our waist and shed this prided chest.
Grow some squash and grow some corn and plow up all your hate,
That's plowing up our freedom here in this Alabama state.
Porky Pig and piglet too, and Mickey Mouse's shout,
We think that we now own this land so kick the unwanted out.
Lest we forget we slaughtered those, the natives from before;
And cast them out while flinging rocks like the pharisees and whore.
Pocket your stones and pocket your hate and pocket your wocca-wocca;
Let's give the world a fresher vision; let's give the world a shock-a.
Elephants and donkeys and Joseph Smith's bros,
Our state is filled with those above, plus a few Latinos.
Let's pass out all the collards, the barbecue and bread,
And love our neighbors as ourselves just like Jesus said.
