University of Virginia Library

MAHS' LEWIS'S RIDE.

Evvah sence I kin remembah,
Dis place belong to de Blan's;
Held about six hund'ed akahs;
Wuhkt about twenty-one han's;

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One o' de best o' plantations—
Dat's jest as sho as you' bo'n;
Raised a great heap o' tobacco;
Wasn't no eend to de co'n.
'Longed to Mahs' Dan'el, who raised me—
Den when he died, ow Miss Grace
Mawied huh cousin, Mahs' Lewis—
Dat's how he come by de place.
He had bin raised in Prince Edwa'd,
Close on de Buckin'm line—
Mighty fine man was Mahs' Lewis!
Yes, sah! he was mighty fine.
See dat bay hoss in de pastah,
Dah wid his neck on de fence?
Mo' dan a good many people
Dat hoss has lahnin' an' sense.
Favo'ite hoss wid Mahs' Lewis;
Offen to me he has sed—
“I'll ride dat hoss, Uncle Petah,
Seems to me, ahter I'm dead.”
“Mighty quah hoss in de pastah?”—
Whah fo' he quah?—You dunno?
Kase o' de bah places on him?—
Dem's whah de woun's wah, fo' sho.
Dat hoss has bin in de battle,
Bin whah de blood's runnin' red;
Dat hoss come back from de battle,
Totin' de fo'm o' de dead.
Dis way it happen: De Yankees
Come yeh dat yeah in great fo'ce;
Grant was dah ginnul commandah—
Guv' em a pow'ful disco'se.

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All o' de monsus grand skrimmage,
We f'om de po'ch yeh could see—
Yandah was Grant an' de Yankees;
Yandah de rebels an' Lee.
Yeh on de po'ch sot de mahstah;
Yandah smoke rose in de breeze;
Blue an' grey lines in de distance
Went in an' out o' de trees.
Dah we saw light in de distance
Flashin'—an' 'twasn't de sun's;
Hud de bim boom o' de cannons,
Hud de ping pang o' de guns.
Suddintly sung out Mahs' Lewis:
“Dah ah de cust Yankee cuhz!
Retch f'om de hooks dah my sabah!
Retch me my swo'd-belt an' spuhz!
Saddle an' bridle Suh Ahchy!
Bring him aroun' to de do'!
He'll tote me safe f'om de battle,
Aw I'll come back nevvah mo'!”
Den I felt bad. S'I, “Mahs' Lewis!
Knows you ain't fit fo' de waw;
You ah too ole fo' sitch fightin';
Bettah stay yeh whah you ah.”
S'e—an' his eyes flashed like fox-fire—
“Bring me Suh Ahchy, I say!
One man, dough aged an' feeble,
Might tu'n de tide o' the day.”
Well, sah, he'd heah to no reason,
Dahfo' Suh Ahchy I fotched;
An' when he rid down de high-road,
Yeh, I sot patient an' watched—

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Watched yeh, an' lissent, an' lissent,
Hea'in' de rattle an' ro';
Seein' 'em, backwa'd an' fo'wa'd,
Blue an' grey lines come an' go.
So dey fit dah all de daylight,
Fit twell de sun had gone down;
Den come de dahkness an' silence
Shadin' de whole place aroun'.
Yeh, on de po'ch I sot waitin',
Waitin', an' dreckly I heah
Clank o' dat swo'd on de saddle,
Ring o' dat hoss comin' neah.
Fastah an' fastah I heah 'em,
Poundin' an' poundin' de groun'—
“Lo'd be praised, dat is Mahs' Lewis!”—
Dat I knowed well by de soun'.
Up in a gallop, Suh Ahchy
Come to de po'ch, den he stah';
Dah, in de saddle, Mahs' Lewis
Sot like a captain so gran'.
“Welcome back! Welcome, Mahs' Lewis!
Bet you made somumum die!
S'pose you 'light dah at de hoss-block;
Dat's a heap easier,” s'I.
Seein' he made me no answer,
Tetched him—Lo'd! how I did staht!
Dah he sot, stiff in de saddle,
Dead, sah! shot right froo de heaht!