There is a certain day that’s in the year, all coons should not forget,
That one is St. Patrick’s Day. I’m thinking of the last one yet.
On last sev’nteenth day of March, about the hour of noon,
I met an Irish bunch who yelled, “Let’s masacree the coon!”
Then they crowded ‘round me, and my eyes began to blink,
One of them grabbed a-hold me, and said, “Coon, come have a drink!”
He said, “Drink something Irish,” and I quickly took the hint,
I felt quite sick, but I yelled quick, “Let me have a glass of creme-de-menthe!”
St. Patrick’s Day’s a bad day for coons,
The only safe plan for us is balloons!
Yellow coons must not be seen.
If you drink, drink something green!
St. Patrick’s Day’s a bad day for coons!
Just then a high toned yellow darky came cake-walking down the street;
He had on a pair of yellow gater tops on his feet.
He had on swell yellow gloves, also a yellow vest,
And when those Irishmen saw that coon, I guess you know the rest.
They quickly grabbed this darky, and he began to fight.
They took his gun and razor, then he tried to pass for white!
They shaved him with his razor, and they fanned him with his gun,
If you show him a shamrock now, that yellow coon is always sure to run!