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”