“Out of the way, you nigger!” cried one of the men who was rolling down a cask.
“Eh! who you call nigger? Me free man, and true Barbadian born. Go along, you man-of-war man.
“Man-of-war, buccra,
Man-of-war, buccra.
He de boy for me;
Sodger, buccra,
Sodger, buccra,
Nebba, nebba do.
Nebba, nebba do for me;
Sodger give one shilling,
Sailor give me two.
“Massa, now suppose you give me only one pictareen now. You really handsome young gentleman.”
“Now, just walk off,” said Swinburne, lifting up a stick he found on the beach.
“Eh; walk off:—
“Nebba see de day, boy,
’Badian run away, boy.”
“Go, do your work, sar. Why you talk to me? Go, work, sar. I free man, and real Barbadian born.
“Negro on de shore
See de ship come in,
De buccra come on shore,
Wid de hand up to de chin;
Man-of-war, buccra,
Man-of-war, buccra,
He de boy for me,
Man-of-war, buccra,
Man-of-war, buccra,
Gib pictareen to me.”
At this moment my attention was directed to another negro, who lay on the beach, rolling and foaming at the mouth, apparently in a fit.