NEGRO SONG. It seems well to supplement this collection of American Poetry, so nearly all Northern, with some specimens of almost the only poetical utterances of the South—the hymns and songs of the Slaves. Rude and unformed as they are, they come from the heart, the true source of poetic inspiration. They need no more preface. We begin with the first stanza of one, probably of Florida composition, sung by Col: Higginson's black regiment. O, my mudder is gone! my mudder is gone! Can't stay behind, my dear! Another is called POOR ROSY. Poor Rosy, poor gal! Heav'n shall-a be my home. Got hard trial in my way, (thrice) O when I talk I talk wid God (twice) I dunno what de people want of me, (thrice) This is a very favourite hymn. The words are alterable. Poor Rosy, poor gal! may be changed for Poor Cæsar, poor boy! Talk with God may be Walk with God. De People may be De Massa. According to circumstances. Such changes and interpolations occur in all the Songs. The following was popular in the coloured schools of Charleston in 1865, and is still sung over the Sea Islands: Nobody knows de trouble I've had, Nobody knows de trouble I've had : One morning I was a-walking down, O yes, Lord! I pick de berry and I suck de juice, O yes, Lord! yes, Lord! What make ole Satan hate me so? O yes, Lord! Because he got me once and let me go. O yes, Lord! Of Virginian origin, probably thence spreading South, and variously modified in different localities, is this: O'ER THE CROSSING. Bendin' knees a-achin', body rack'd wid pain, I wish I was a child of God, I'd git home bime-by. Keep prayin', I do believe we're a long time waggin' o' de crossin'; O yonder's my ole mudder, been a-waggin' at de hill so long; Keep prayin',-I do believe, etc. O hear dat lumberin' thunder, a-roll from do' to do', A-callin' de people home to God; dey'll get home bime-by. O see dat forked lightnin' a-jump from cloud to cloud, The next may be also Virginian, though obtained from a Carolinan Negro. GOD GOT PLENTY O' ROOM. God got plenty o' room, got plenty o' room, God got plenty o' room my Jesus say, Brethren! I have come again-'Way, etc. So many weeks and days has pass'd Old Satan tremble when he sees The weakest saints upon their knees. Prayer makes the darkest cloud withdraw, Daniel's wisdom may I know, John's divine communion feel, There's a school on earth begun We shall soon lay our school-books by, 'Way in de kingdom. Descending to secular verse we may take some notice of the CHARLESTON GALS. As I walk'd down the new-cut road, I met the tap and then the toad; The toad commenced to whistle and sing, And the 'possum cut the pigeon-wing. Along come an old man riding by: Old man! if you don't mind, your horse will die. And if he lives I'll ride him agin. Our next is one of the Mississipi steam-boat songs. I'M GWINE TO ALABAMY. I'm gwine to Alabamy-Oh! (prolonged for a whole bar) She went from Ole Virginny-Oh! Now I'm a good big nigger-Oh! I reckon I won't git bigger-Ah! But I'd like to see my mammy-Oh! We may add yet another-a song of the Savannah firemen HEAVE AWAY! Heave away! heave away! I'd rather court a yellow gal than work for Henry Clay : Yellow gal! I want to go. I'd rather court a yellow gal than work for Henry Clay. And one more, which seems to be neither wholly serious nor wholly fun 'BECCA LAWTON. Rain fall and wet 'Becca Lawton-Oh! Do, 'Becca Lawton! come to me yonder-Oh! Say, 'brudder Tony! what shall I do now?-Oh! Beat (or rack) back holy, and rock salvation.-Oh! No one knows who 'Becca Lawton was, and the song may be an old invocation for rain. The song ends with a laugh; and when |