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| SARVENT, Marster! Yes, sah, dat ’s me— | |
| Ole Unc’ Gabe ’s my name; | |
| I thankee, Marster, I ’m ’bout, yo’ see. | |
| “An’ de ole ’ooman?” She ’s much de same, | |
| Po’ly an’ ’plainin’, thank de Lord! | 5 |
| But de Marster ’s gwine ter come back from ’broad. | |
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| “Fine ole place?” Yes, sah, ’t is so; | |
| An’ mighty fine people my white folks war— | |
| But you ought ter ’a’ seen it years ago, | |
| When de Marster an’ de Mistis lived up dyah; | 10 |
| When de niggers’d stan’ all roun’ de do’, | |
| Like grains o’ corn on de cornhouse flo’. | |
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| “Live mons’ ous high?” Yes, Marster, yes; | |
| Cut ’n’ onroyal ’n’ gordly dash; | |
| Eat an’ drink till you could n’ res’. | 15 |
| My folks war ’n’ none o’ yo’ po’-white-trash; | |
| No, sah, dey was ob high degree— | |
| Dis heah nigger am quality! | |
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| “Tell you ’bout ’em?” You mus’ ’a’ hearn | |
| ’Bout my ole white folks, sho’! | 20 |
| I tell you, suh, dey was gre’t an’ stern; | |
| D’ did n’ have nuttin’ at all to learn; | |
| D’ knowed all dar was to know; | |
| Gol’ ober de’ head an’ onder dey feet; | |
| An’ silber! dey sowed ’t like folks sows wheat. | 25 |
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| “Use ter be rich?” Dat war n’ de wud! | |
| Jes’ wallowed an’ roll’ in wealf. | |
| Why, none o’ my white folks ever stir’d | |
| Ter lif’ a han’ for d’self; | |
| De niggers use ter be stan’in’ roun’ | 30 |
| Jes’ d’ same ez leaves when dey fus’ fall down; | |
| De stable-stalls up heah at home | |
| Looked like teef in a fine-toof comb; | |
| De cattle was p’digious—mus’ tell de fac’! | |
| An’ de hogs mecked de hillsides look like black; | 35 |
| An’ de flocks ob sheep was so gre’t an’ white | |
| Dey ’peared like clouds on a moonshine night. | |
| An’ when my ole Mistis use’ ter walk— | |
| Jes’ ter her kerridge (dat was fur | |
| Ez ever she walked)—I tell you, sir, | 40 |
| You could almos’ heah her silk dress talk; | |
| Hit use’ ter soun’ like de mornin’ breeze, | |
| When it wakes an’ rustles de Gre’t House trees. | |
| An’ de Marster’s face!—de Marster’s face, | |
| Whenever de Marster got right pleased— | 45 |
| Well, I ’clar’ ter Gord, ’t would shine wid grace | |
| De same ez his countenance had been greased. | |
| De cellar, too, had de bes’ ob wine, | |
| An’ brandy, an’ sperrits dat yo’ could fine; | |
| An’ ev’ything in dyah was stored, | 50 |
| ’Skusin’ de glory of de Lord! | |
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| “Warn’ dyah a son?” Yes, sah, you knows | |
| He ’s de young Marster now; | |
| But we heah dat dey tooken he very clo’es | |
| Ter pay what ole Marster owe; | 55 |
| He ’s done been gone ten year, I s’pose. | |
| But he ’s comin’ back some day, of co’se; | |
| An’ my ole ’ooman is aluz pyard, | |
| An’ meckin’ de Blue-Room baid, | |
| An’ ev’y day dem sheets is ayard, | 60 |
| An’ will be till she ’s daid; | |
| An’ de styars she ’ll scour, | |
| An’ dat room she ’ll ten’, | |
| Ev’y blessed day dat de Lord do sen’! | |
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| What say, Marster? Yo’ say, you knows?— | 65 |
| He ’s young an’ slender-like an’ fyah; | |
| Better-lookin’ ’n you, of co’se! | |
| Hi! you ’s he? ’Fo Gord, ’t is him! | |
| ’T is de very voice an’ eyes an’ hyah, | |
| An’ mouf an’ smile, on’y yo’ ain’ so slim— | 70 |
| I wonder whah—whah ’s de ole ’ooman? | |
| Now let my soul | |
| Depart in peace, | |
| For I behol’ | |
| Dy glory, Lord!—I knowed you, chile— | 75 |
| I knowed you soon ’s I see’d your face! | |
| Whar has you been dis blessed while? | |
| Done come back an’ buy de place? | |
| Oh, bless de Lord for all his grace! | |
| De ravins shell hunger, an’ shell not lack, | 80 |
| De Marster, de young Marster’s done come back! | |
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