From banjo and bow
And the cotton’s long row,
Free-song and slave-song would mingle and flow.
And Pride was the ginner—
(Unpardonable sin!)
Was there ever a sinner
Like the Old Cotton Gin?
Alas, for his weavings—ay, tears for the day
When out from his loom came the jackets of gray,
And the locks that were plucked in despair from his head