  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. |
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