’Tis de old ship o’ Zion,
Come to take us all home—
Glory, glory, hallelujah!”
Here she broke off with a pitiful cry: “O Gord! my sweet lamb, mammy kyarn’ sing to you while her heart’s fyar breakin’ in her. Don’ ask pore mammy tuh sing, my honey—don’, don’!”
“Sing, please, sing,” said the girl, with gentle insistence. Her mind was failing her a little for the first time. “God alluz furgives, don’ he, mammy? Alluz, alluz. Sing ’bout it, mammy; please, mammy, sing.”
The old negress went on, brokenly:
“We has landed many thousands—
Hallelujah!
An’ we’ll lan’ many mo-re—
Hallelujah!”