Oh, Abraham Lincoln, carried across Ninth Street.
Oh, Abraham Lincoln, carried across Ninth Street.
The assassin, the coward, shot him in the head.
The assassin, the serpent, stuck him then he fled.

Oh, many, many, many, people gather to hear the word.
Oh, many, many, many, people tremble at what they’ve heard.
Snickering drunkards from cover of dark.
Treachery’s their master. Murder is their art.

From the temple grips his chair.
Watch the people climb the stairs.
Watch the leaves grow then fall
Blow across the empty mall.

Oh, Abraham Lincoln, buried and in his grave.
Oh, Abraham Lincoln, buried and in his grave.
The assassin, the coward, no grave for you.
The assassin, the actor, no applause for you.