Yes, suh.‘ T was jes’‘ bout sundown Dad went — two months ago; I always used ter run down Dat time, bec'us’, you know,
I wudden like ter had him die, An’ no one nigh. You see, we cudden git him Ter come‘ way off dat lan’ —
‘ E said New House did n’ fit him, No mo’‘ n new shoes did; an’ Gord mout miss him at Jedgment day, Ef he moved‘ way.
“How ole?” Ef we all wondered How ole he was, he‘ d frown An’ say he was “a hundred an — Ole Miss done sot it down,
An’ she could tell —‘ t was fo’ or five — Ef she was live.” Well, when, as I was sayin’, Dat night I come on down,
I see he bench was layin’ Flat-sided on de groun’; An’ I kinder hurried to'ds de do’ — Quick-like, you know.
Inside I see him layin’ Back, quiet, on de bed; An’ I heahed him kep on sayin': “Dat‘ s what ole Marster said;
An’ Marster warn’ gwine tell me lie, He‘ ll come by-m’ - by.” I axed how he was gettin’. “Nigh ter de furrow's een’,”
He said; “dis ebenin’, settin’ Outside de do’, I seen De thirteen curlews come in line, An’ knowed de sign.
“You know, ole Marster tole me He‘ d come for me‘ fo’ long; ‘ Fo’ you was born, he sole me — But den he pined so strong
He come right arter Little Jack, An’ buyed him back. “I went back ter de kerrige An’ tuk dem reins ag'in.
I druv him ter his marriage; An’, nigger,‘ t was a sin Ter see de high an’ mighty way I looked dat day!
“Dat coat had nary button ‘ Skusin’ it was ob gole; My hat — but dat war n't nuttin’! ‘ T was noble ter behole
De way dem hosses pawed de yar, Wid me up dyar. “Now all‘ s w'ared out befo’ me!— Marster, an’ coat, an’ all;
Me only lef — you know me!— Cheat wheat‘ s de lars’ ter fall: De rank grain ben's wid its own weight, De light stan's straight.
“But heah! Ole Marster‘ s waitin’ — So I mus’ tell you: raise De jice dyar;‘ neaf de platin’ — De sweat o’ many days
Is in dat stockin’ — toil an’ pain In sun an’ rain. “I worked ter save dem figgers Ter buy you; but de Lord
He sot free all de niggers, Same as white-folks,‘ fo’ Gord! Free as de crows! Free as de stars! Free as ole hyars!
“Now, chile, you teck dat money, Git on young Marster's track, An’ pay it ter him, honey; An’ tell him Little Jack
Worked forty year, dis Chris'mus come, Ter save dat sum; “An’ dat‘ t was for ole Marster, To buy your time f'om him;
But dat de war come farster, An’ squandered stock an’ lim’ — Say you kin work an’ do n't need none, An’ he car n't, son.
“He ain’ been use ter diggin’ His livin’ out de dirt; He car n't drink out a piggin, Like you; an’ it‘ ud hurt
Ole Marster's pride, an’ make him sw'ar, In glory dyar!” Den all his strength seemed fallin’; He shet his eyes awhile,
An’ den said: “Heish! he‘ s callin’! Dyar he! Now watch him smile! Yes, suh — You niggers jes’ stan’ back! Marster, here‘ s Jack!”
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