Word of the trouble spread around
One day, a man came through my town
I was in the kitchen when my pa let him in
Shook my hand, said: Son, the Klan's your friend

Was a meeting at Lyle Stanton's house
On the Jefferson Highway
Some they did not listen, some
Did not turn away

Said: When the holy rain of fire comes
Tumbling from above
It'll be a Klansman who stands for the land he loves
Look away, look away now

I was ten years old when my pa said: Son
Some day you will see
When you grow to wear the robes
Like your brother and me

When the war between the races lives
As in a fiery dream
It'll be a Klansman who will wipe this country clean
This, son, is my dream