a toss,
And said they should not stay.
And I should think he felt quite cheap
For voting the wrong side;
And when Aunt Kitty scolded him,
He just stood up and cried.
But the worst fooled man I ever saw,
Was when poor David Rand
Sold out for flour and sugar;
The sugar was mixed with sand.
I’ll tell you how the thing got out;
His wife had company,
And she thought the sand was sugar,
And served it up for tea.
When David sipped and sipped the tea,
Somehow it didn’t taste right;
I guess when he found he was sipping sand,
He was mad enough to fight.
The sugar looked so nice and white—
It was spread some inches deep—
But underneath was a lot of sand;
Such sugar is mighty cheap.
You’d laughed to seen Lucinda Grange
Upon her husband’s track;
When he sold his vote for rations
She made him take ’em back.
Day after day did Milly Green
Just follow after Joe,
And told him if he voted wrong
To take his rags and go.
I think that Curnel Johnson said
His side had won the day,
Had not we women radicals
Just got right in the way.
And yet I would not have you think
That all our men are shabby;
But ’tis said in every flock of sheep
There will be one that’s scabby.
I’ve heard, before election came
They tried to buy John Slade;
But he gave them all to understand
That he wasn’t in that trade.
And we’ve got lots of other men
Who rally round the cause,
And go for holding up the hands
That gave us equal laws.
Who know their freedom cost too much
Of blood and pain and treasure,
For them to fool away their votes
For profit or for pleasure.
Aunt Chloe’s Politics
Of course, I don’t know very much
About these politics,
But I think that some who run ’em,
Do mighty ugly tricks.
I’ve seen ’em honey-fugle round,
And talk so awful sweet,
That you’d think them full of kindness,
As an egg is full of meat.
Now I don’t believe in looking
Honest people in the face,
And saying when you’re doing wrong,
That “I haven’t sold my race.”
When we want to school our children,
If the money isn’t there,
Whether black or white have took it,
The loss we all must share.
And this buying up each other
Is something worse than mean,
Though I thinks a heap of voting,
I go for voting clean.
Learning to Read
Very soon the Yankee teachers
Came down and set up school;
But, oh! how the Rebs did hate it—
It was agin’ their rule.
Our masters always tried to hide
Book learning from our eyes;
Knowledge didn’t agree with slavery—
’Twould make us all too wise.
But some of us would try to steal
A little from the book,
And put the words together,
And learn by hook or crook.
I remember Uncle Caldwell,
Who took pot-liquor fat
And greased the pages of his book,
And hid it in his hat.
And had his master ever seen
The leaves upon his head,
He’d have thought them greasy papers,
But nothing to be read.
And there was Mr. Turner’s Ben,
Who heard the children spell,
And picked the words right up by heart,
And learned to read ’em well.
Well, the Northern folks kept sending
The Yankee teachers down;
And they stood right up and helped us,
Though Rebs did sneer and frown.
And, I longed to read my Bible,
For precious words it said;
But when I begun to learn it,
Folks just shook their heads,
And said there is no use trying,
Oh! Chloe, you’re too late;
But as I was rising sixty,
I had no time to wait.
So I got a pair of glasses,
And straight to work I went,
And never stopped till I could read
The hymns and Testament.
Then I got a little cabin
A place to call my own—
And I felt as independent
As the queen upon her throne.
Church Building
Uncle Jacob often told us,
Since freedom blessed our race
We ought all to come together
And build a meeting place.
So we pinched, and scraped, and spared,
A little here and there:
Though our wages was but scanty,
The church did get a share.
And, when the house was finished,
Uncle Jacob came to pray;
He was looking mighty feeble,
And his head was awful gray.
But his voice rang like a trumpet;
His eyes looked bright and young;
And it seemed a mighty power
Was resting on his tongue.
And he gave us all his blessing—
’Twas parting words he said,
For soon we got the message
The dear old man was dead.
But I believe he’s in the kingdom,
For when we shook his hand
He said, “Children, you must meet me
Right in the promised land;
“For when I’m done a moiling
And toiling here below,
Through the gate into the city
Straightway I hope to go.”
The Reunion
Well, one morning real early
I was going down the street,
And I heard a stranger asking
For Missis Chloe Fleet.
There was a something in his voice
That made me feel quite shaky,
And when I looked right in his face,
Who should it be but Jakey!
I grasped him tight, and took him home—
What gladness filled my cup!
And I laughed, and just rolled over,
And laughed, and just give up.
“Where have you been? O Jakey, dear!
Why didn’t you come before?
Oh! when you children went away
My heart was awful sore.”
“Why, mammy, I’ve been on your hunt
Since ever I’ve been free,
And I have heard from brother Ben—
He’s down in Tennessee.
“He wrote me that he had a wife.”
“And children?” “Yes, he’s three.”
“You married, too?” “Oh no, indeed,
I thought I’d first get free.”
“Then, Jakey, you will stay with me,
And comfort my poor heart;
Old Mistus got no power now
To tear us both apart.
“I’m richer now than Mistus,
Because I have got my son;
And Mister Thomas he is dead,
And she’s got nary one.
“You must write to brother Benny
That he must come this fall,
And we’ll make the cabin bigger,
And that will hold us all.
“Tell him I want to see ’em all
Before
