"Dat coat had nary button
'Skusin' it was ob gole;
My hat—but dat warn't nuttin'!
'T was noble ter behole
De way dem hosses pawed de yar,
Wid me up dyar.
"Now all 's w'ared out befo' me!—
Marster, an' coat, an' all;
Me only lef—you know me!—
Cheat wheat 's de lars' ter fall:
De rank grain ben's wid its own weight,
De light stan's straight.
"But heah! Ole Marster 's waitin'—
So I mus' tell you: raise
De jice dyar; 'neaf de platin'—
De sweat o' many days
Is in dat stockin'—toil an' pain
In sun an' rain.
"I worked ter save dem figgers
Ter buy you; but de Lord
He sot free all de niggers,
Same as white-folks, 'fo' Gord!
Free as de crows! Free as de stars!
Free as ole hyars!
"Now, chile, you teck dat money,
Git on young Marster's track,
An' pay it ter him, honey;
An' tell him Little Jack
Worked forty year, dis Chris'mus come,
Ter save dat sum;
"An' dat 't was for ole Marster,
To buy your time f'om him;
But dat de war come farster,
An' squandered stock an' lim'—
Say you kin work an' don't need none,
An' he carn't, son.
"He ain' been use ter diggin'
His livin' out de dirt;
He carn't drink out a piggin,
Like you; an' it 'ud hurt
Ole Marster's pride, an' make him sw'ar,
In glory dyar!"
Den all his strength seemed fallin';
He shet his eyes awhile,
An' den said: "Heish! he 's callin'!
Dyar he! Now watch him smile!
Yes, suh— You niggers jes' stan' back!
Marster, here 's Jack!"