People tell de news las’ week
Dat a cullud man gwine speak
At de college hall;
Say he try ter lif’ his race
Ter a high en shinin’ place
On dis ’restial ball.
En dey say dat cullud man
Doin’ work dat sho am gran’
In dis worl’ below;
Say he gib his life, fo’ true,
So de nigger be en do
Better dan befo’.
He done ’stablish a fine school,
Whar, dey say, he ’force dis rule:
Train de man all roun’;
Let de han’s dey duty know;
Let de min’ wake up en grow;
Let de heart be soun’.

Dat great school am situate
Down in Alabamy state,
In dis Dixie lan’;
En folks north en eas’ en wes’,
When dey heah it do its bes’,
Len’ a he’pin’ han’.
Mr. Washington come down
Las’ week ter dis very town,
Ez I spec’ you know;
En when I went ter dat hall
Des ter heah him speak, en all,
I wus ’sprised, fo’ sho;
’Sprised ter see dat cullud man
On de platform, dress up gran’,
Wid de bes’ white men;
En if he don’t speak dat day
Words ez good ez dey kin say—
Den my name ain’t Ben!
Oh, I wish dat I could tell
What he say! It make me swell
All up fat wid pride;
En I say: “I sho gwine shake
His right han’ fo’ dem words’ sake,
When we git outside.”
When he finish en set down,
I go outside en walk roun’
Till his face I see;
Den I say, sho ez I bo’n:
“Howdy, Mr. Washington!
Won’t you speak ter me?”
En he shake my han’ de way
Dat men do when dey hearts say:
“Glad ter see yo’ face!”
En I tell him; “’Fo’e you go
I mus’ say, you make me, sho,
Proud ob de black race.”