They sang, and their voices were sweet. William Freeland, sitting on the veranda, took his pipe from between his teeth and smiled at his mother.
“I always say there’s nothing like darkies singing—nothing. Some of our folks have really beautiful voices. Listen to that!” The master of Freelands spoke with real pride.
Inside the house old Caleb fussed with the curtains. He felt a trembling inside of him. That dear, young voice out there in the dusk:
“Ah thought Ah heared them say
There was lions in the way
I don’ expect to stay
Much longah here.”
The buoyant refrain—all the voices singing triumphantly:
“Oh Canaan, sweet Canaan,
Not much longah here!”