CHESS.—"BLACK MOVES AND WINS."
Dozing in his easy chair,
Round his nose mosquitoes flitting,
Sweltering in the sunny air,
Was Nine-tail Joe of Kingston sitting.
Now Nine-tailed Joe loved cheerfulness,
And he chanced in a pleasant mood to be,
So he flogged his niggers, and played at chess,
And drank a full jorum of Sangaree.
What can be the matter with flogging Joe?
His eyes are rolling to and fro,
And he rubs his nose with his finger and thumb,
And gasps to speak, like one that is dumb.
The forms that lately were pawns and knights,
And bishops, and queens, and kings,
Were reeling and wheeling, like so many sprites,
Or other unearthly things.
And beings all fearfully black were there,
And they roll'd their eyes at Joe,
And wildly flourished the cat in air,
And danced to "Jump Jim Crow."
Before them fled both bishop and knight,
While pawn and king were seen
Rolling and tumbling, in awful plight,—
Decorum was gone, and they fled outright,—
And surely it was a most terrible sight
When the bishop fell over the queen.
With burning head and aching heart,
Up from his chair did the planter start:
But the vision had fled, and there, instead
Of dancing niggers' furious tread,
Was seen the Bill, the dreadful Bill,
The Whiggish Act of Slavery,
That made him rich against his will,
And stopped him in his knavery.
——————
The planter's dream doth plainly seem
To point a moral deep:
If you choose to whack a nigger's back,
You should never go to sleep.