The Klan

Words & Music:

Traditional

 

    Am

The countryside was cold and still,

C

There was a cross upon a hill,

    Am

And this cross wore a burning hood,

C                  Dm      Am

To hide its rotten core of wood.

Am                 G

Father, I hear the iron sound

   Am               Dm     Am

Of hoofbeats on the frozen ground.

 

Down from the hills the riders came,

Jesus, it was a crying shame,

To see the blood upon their lips,

And hear the snarling of their whips.

Mother, I feel a stabbing pain;

Blood flows down like the summer's rain.

 

And each man wore a mask of white,

To hide his cruel face from sight.

And each one sucked a hollow breath,

Out of the empty lungs of death.

Sister, hold my bloody head;

It's so lonesome to be dead.

 

And he who rides among the Klan,

He is a monster, not a man.

For underneath that white disguise,

I've looked into his eyes.

Brother, won't you stand by me;

It's not easy to be free.