JOHN MORGAN’S foot is on thy shore,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!
His hand is on thy stable door,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!
You’ll see your good gray mare no more;
He’ll ride her till her back is sore,
And leave her at some stranger’s door,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!

For feeding John you’re paying dear,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!
His very name now makes you fear,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!
In every valley, far and near,
He’s gobbled every horse and steer;
You’ll rue his raids for many a year.
Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Yet you have many a traitorous fool,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!
Who still will be the rebel’s tool,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!
They’ll learn to yield to Abra’m’s rule
In none but Johnny’s costly school,
At cost of every animule,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!