Friend Hopper says ’tis Canada,
And if we reach Victoria’s shore,
He says that we are slaves no more.
Chorus. Now hasten all bondmen, let us go
And leave this Christian country O;
Haste to the land of the British Queen,
Where whips for negroes are not seen.
Now if we go, we must take the night—
We’re sure to die if we come in sight,
The bloodhounds will be on our track,