Coon River, lost within a dream,
Nostalgic does it seem to me.
My own dear black brother has cried like no other.
This doesn’t seem human, assumin’ we’re free.
Team Players, destined to take sides…
Our hate is what divides our will.
I too often wonder, with life cast asunder,
Was I born to blunder, remaining quite still?
Coon Masters chillin’ at the swamp…
There’s plenty time to romp and play.
We’re letting our own freedom ring
As we laugh and sing. It’s a nigger thing…
Coon River and me.