Lyrics:

Oh how we used to hate the sight
Of the evil rent collector coming in the night.
Got to tithe the 40 bushels, but it don't seem right.
Up to the manor house to pay the Great Patroon.

We had taken a wilderness
And turned the Earth to bounty by the rake's caress.
Never owning what we tilled below the crescent moon.
Up to the manor house to pay the Great Patroon.

The sheriff was about to sell their cows,
Or otherwise extort the rent.
So they met in barns and in out of the way places
To scheme all night on how to gain their ends.
What do you wear for civil war in 1844
In upstate New York?
What do you wear for civil war in 1844
In upstate New York?

These Indians wore Calico dresses,
belted at the waist,
Red flannel pantaloons,
oh! Those masks were awful looking things,
With fringe around the neck.
Horns upon the forehead,
Coarse animal hair glued on for a beard.
At this pow-wow among the grotesque,
The chief wore a striped calico long lady's dress.

Blow the tin dinner horn over the valley.
Call all the formerly normal men to revolt and rally.
The Feudal Land Laws should be abolished.
What are you waiting for? it's 1844!
The worm has begun to turn

I saw those Calicos scorn and spurn their accusers
with threatening talk and rough, tough, threatening gestures.
The feeling waxed stronger and stronger.
(Stronger and stronger)
They tried to talk like real Indians might-
"Me want cider," and the like.
Many a head had worn this crown of feathers,
had tried to be the leader of the Anti-Rent Rioters.
I recognized it as having belonged to a left-handed neighbor,
a real indian man called Sander-Vatheverander.

Blow the tin dinner horn over the valley.
Call all the formerly normal men to revolt and rally.
The Feudal Land Laws should be abolished.
What are you waiting for? it's 1844?
The worm has begun to turn

Three, four, five, waaah!
Waaah!