The Ballad of Robert Byrd

I know-this is really mean! Sing it to the tune of ``My Darling Clementine``:



There`s a kleagle in a klavern
burnin` crosses for the Klan,
he`s a white trash 99er
glad his daughter isn`t tan!

He was born a West Virginin`
in a cardbord paper shack
as a boy he and his kin`un
made their clothes of burlap sack.

Robert Byrdie, Robert Byrdie
Robert Byrd, the Senate Dean
though he may be forced to say it
can`t believe Obama`s clean.

walked to school with snow a blowin`
in his bare or stockinged feet
through the coal piles that were growin`
as he stitched his first white sheet.

Robert Byrdie, Robert Byrdie
Robert Byrd, the Senate`s soul
found the Democrats appeal
beat the work of mining coal.

Went to Congress as a liberal
though he`d fought to segregate
now he guards the Senate`s conscience
while he sees that pork inflate.

Robert Byrdie, Robert Byrdie
Robert Byrd, we all agree
just ain`t nothin but a bumpkin
a West Virginia hillbilly!

He was a Kleagle in a Klavern
burning crosses for the Klan
sounds just like he left the tavern
and he needs to eat more bran.

Robert Byrdie, Robert Byrdie
Robert Byrd, Pro Tempore
thinks he`s bigger than ``white...peoples``
and that coloreds should obey.