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