See, massa, see this sable boy!
When chill disease had nipp’d his flower,
You came and spoke the word of joy,
And poured the juice of healing power.
To visit far Jamaica’s shore
Had no kind angel deign’d to move you,
These laughing eyes had laugh’d no more,
Nor Yarra lived to thank and love you,
Then grieve not, massa, that to view
Our isle you left your British pleasures: