by Henry Clay Work
Say, can you see the master comin'
With the moustache on his face?
He come out o' here sometime this mornin',
Said he's gonna leave this place.
He saw the smoke way up the river
Where the Lincoln gunboats lay.
He took his hat and he left mighty sudden,
And I think he's gone away!
Oh, the master run, ha, ha!
The darkey stay, ho, ho!
And it must be now the kingdom comin'
in the year of Jubilo!
Oh, he's six foot one way, two foot t'other,
And he weighs three hundred pounds.
His coat's so big he couldn't pay the tailor,
And it don't go halfway round.
He drills so much they call him Captain,
And he gets so mighty tanned.
I expect he'll try to fool them Yankees
For to think he's contraband!
Now the overseer, he makes trouble
And he run us 'round a spell.
We locked him in the smokehouse cellar
With the keys thrown down the well.
His whip is lost, his handcuff's broken,
And the master'll have his pay.
He's old enough, big enough and ought to known better
Than to went and run away!