And if we reach Victoria’s shore,
They say that we are slaves no more.
Now haste, all bondmen, let us go,
And leave this Christian country, Oh;
Haste to the land of the British Queen,
Where whips for negroes are not seen.
Now, if we go, we must take the night,
And never let them come in sight;
The bloodhounds will be on our track,
And wo to us if they fetch us back.