LITTLE JACK
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!”