 | 'Weh Down Souf and other Poems : |  |
48
DE NIGGER'S GOT TO GO.
Dear Liza, I is bin down-town
To Marster Charley's sto',
An' all de talk dis nigger hear
Is, “Niggers got to go.”
I 'fess it bodders my ol' head,
An' I would lik' to kno',
What all we cullud folks is don',
Dat now we'z got to go?
To Marster Charley's sto',
An' all de talk dis nigger hear
Is, “Niggers got to go.”
I 'fess it bodders my ol' head,
An' I would lik' to kno',
What all we cullud folks is don',
Dat now we'z got to go?
I hear dem say dat long ago
To ol' Virginny's sho',
Dar kum a ship wid cullud folks,
Sum twenty odd or mo';
Dey tells me dat dey hoed de corn,
An' wuz good wuckers, sho',
Dey made Virginny like de rose—
But now dey's got to go.
To ol' Virginny's sho',
Dar kum a ship wid cullud folks,
Sum twenty odd or mo';
Dey tells me dat dey hoed de corn,
An' wuz good wuckers, sho',
Dey made Virginny like de rose—
But now dey's got to go.
49
Dat, when ol' Ginnel Washin'ton
Did whip dem Red-koats so,
A nigger wuz de fus' to fall
A-fightin' ub de fo';
Dat, in de late “unpleasunness”
Dey watched at marster's do',
Proteckin' ub his lubin' ones,—
But now dey's got to go.
Did whip dem Red-koats so,
A nigger wuz de fus' to fall
A-fightin' ub de fo';
Dat, in de late “unpleasunness”
Dey watched at marster's do',
Proteckin' ub his lubin' ones,—
But now dey's got to go.
I 'fess I lubs dis dear ol' place—
'Twuz here we beried Jo';
An' little Liza married off,
So menny years ago.
An' now wez feeble, an' our lim's
A-gitting mighty slo'.
We'd hate to lebe de dear ol' place—
But den, wez got to go.
'Twuz here we beried Jo';
An' little Liza married off,
So menny years ago.
An' now wez feeble, an' our lim's
A-gitting mighty slo'.
We'd hate to lebe de dear ol' place—
But den, wez got to go.
I don't kno' much 'bout politicks,
An' all dem things, yo' kno',
But de las' 'leckshun I jes' vote
Ez de whi' folks tol' me to;
Dey tole me vote fur Dimikrats,
An' 'twould be better, 'do'
Sense now dey don' de leckshun win,
Dey sez we'z got to go.
An' all dem things, yo' kno',
But de las' 'leckshun I jes' vote
Ez de whi' folks tol' me to;
50
An' 'twould be better, 'do'
Sense now dey don' de leckshun win,
Dey sez we'z got to go.
Dey sez de whi' folks mad 'long us,
'Cause we kummin' up, yo' kno';
An' sum un us is gittin' rich,
Wid do'-bells on de do';
An' got sum lawyers, doctors too,
An' men like dat, fur sho'.
But den it kan't be jes' fur dis
Dat we all got to go.
'Cause we kummin' up, yo' kno';
An' sum un us is gittin' rich,
Wid do'-bells on de do';
An' got sum lawyers, doctors too,
An' men like dat, fur sho'.
But den it kan't be jes' fur dis
Dat we all got to go.
De Lord he made dis lubly lan'
Fur white an' black folks too,
An' gin each man his roe to ten'—
Den what we gwine to do?
We 'habes ouselbes an' 'specks de laws,
But dey's peckin mo' an' mo'.
We ain't don' nuffin 't all to dem,
Den huccum we mus' go?
Fur white an' black folks too,
An' gin each man his roe to ten'—
Den what we gwine to do?
We 'habes ouselbes an' 'specks de laws,
But dey's peckin mo' an' mo'.
We ain't don' nuffin 't all to dem,
Den huccum we mus' go?
51
Fur ebry nashun on de glob'
Dis seems to be a hom';
Dey welkums dem wid open arms,
No matter whar dey frum;
But we, who here wuz bred an' borhn,
Don't seem to hab no show;
We ho'ped to mek it what it is,
But still we'z got to go.
Dis seems to be a hom';
Dey welkums dem wid open arms,
No matter whar dey frum;
But we, who here wuz bred an' borhn,
Don't seem to hab no show;
We ho'ped to mek it what it is,
But still we'z got to go.
It 'pears to me, my Liza, dear,
We'z got a right to stay,
An' not a man on dis broad urf
Gwine dribe dis nigger 'way.
But why kan't whi' folks lef us lon',
An' weed dar side de ro';
An' what dey all time talkin' 'bout—
“De nigger's got to go?”
We'z got a right to stay,
An' not a man on dis broad urf
Gwine dribe dis nigger 'way.
But why kan't whi' folks lef us lon',
An' weed dar side de ro';
An' what dey all time talkin' 'bout—
“De nigger's got to go?”
“'Rastus,” Liza sed, “trus' in God,
He'll fix things here belo',
He don't hate us bekase we'z black—
He made us all, yo' kno';
He lubs us, ef we'z cullud folks,
Ef de hart is white an' pure,
An' 'cepin'de Lord sez,—‘Forward, march!’
We'z not a-gwine to go.”
He'll fix things here belo',
He don't hate us bekase we'z black—
He made us all, yo' kno';
52
Ef de hart is white an' pure,
An' 'cepin'de Lord sez,—‘Forward, march!’
We'z not a-gwine to go.”
| 'Weh Down Souf and other Poems : | |