Air—Dearest Maie.
Now, freemen, listen to my song, a story I’ll relate,
It happened in the valley of the old Carolina State:
They marched me to the cotton field, at early break of day,
And worked me there till late sunset, without a cent of pay.
Chorus. They worked me all the day,
Without a bit of pay,
And believed me when I told them
That I would not run away.
Massa gave me a holiday, and said he’d give me more,
I thanked him very kindly, and shoved my boat from shore;
I drifted down the river, my heart was light and free,
I had my eye on the bright north star, and thought of liberty.
They worked me all the day,
Without a bit of pay,
So I took my flight in the middle of the night,
When the sun was gone away.
I jumped out of my good old boat and shoved it from the shore,
And travelled faster that night than I had ever done before;
I came up to a farmer’s house, just at the break of day,
And saw a white man standing there, said he, “You are run away.”
They worked me all the day,
Without a bit of pay,
So I took my flight in the middle of the night,
When the sun was gone away.
I told him I had left the whip, and baying of the hound,
To find a place where man was man, if such there could be found,
That I heard in Canada, all mankind were free,
And that I was going there in search of liberty.
They worked me all the day,
Without a bit of pay,
So I took my flight in the middle of the night,
When the sun was gone away.