A BLACK BIRD THAT COULD SING BUT WOULDN'T SING.

Bruce Herald, Volume IX, Issue 807, 30 May 1876, Page 3

A BLACK BIRD THAT COULD SING BUT WOULDN'T SING.

A LYRIC OF THE AMERICAN' SOUTHERN STATES. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, O'er the War of the Rebellion and the things that were before ; While I sat absorbed in thinking, brandy cocktails slowly drinking, Suddenly I saw a blinking, one-eyed figure at my door — Saw a nasty, stinking, blinking, one-eyed figure at my door, Standing up as stiff as steelyards, just across my chamber floor, Peeping in, and — nothing more. Ah ! I never shall forget it, how in glancing round I met it, And I ever shall regret it that looked towards that door, For I saw a monstrous figure — like a giant, only bigger, And there stood a big buck nigger, with his back against the door, Darting, with a hideous snigger, glances right across my floor, A reeking, lantern-jaw'd buck nigger bolt upright against my door, Glancing in, and — nothing more. Quick instinctively espying where my ham and eggs were frying, There I saw a poker lying near the hearth upon the floor, And with most determined vigor seized and hurled it at the nigger, But so quick was he on the trigger, as he jump'd it struck the door, Struck beneath him, as he bounded just like lightuing from the door, As like a tarr'd and feather' d Mercury, up he bounded from the floor, Grazed his heel, and — nothing more. Back toward my hearth-stone looking, where my ham aud eggs were cooking, Shaking, quaking as no mortal ever shaked or quaked before, Soon I heard the iigly sinner mutter forth these words, " Some dinner," Looking still more gaunt and thinner, even thau he looked before, These tbe words the heathen mutter'd — the sole and only sound then uttered, As down from his high jump he flutter'd 'lighting on his major toe, " Dinner," said he, nothing more. Then his impudence beginning, he displayed his gums in grinning, And with eyes aught else but winning, leer'd : upon me from the door, Speaking thusly : " 'Tis your treat, man, I'll never go into the street, man, Till I get some grub to eat, man, I shall never leave your door, Never quit them aigs and bacon, now just done, I'm very sure. Never till I've cleaned the platter, though you beat me till 1 roar, Treat me, or I'll charge 'em sure.'' Then toward the fire-place marching, where my coffee too was parching, Boldly stalked this sassy nigger right across mj' chamber floor, Never stopped to beud or bow, sir, then I knew there' d be a row, sir, For I made a solemn vow, sir, he should soon recross that floor, And 1 kicked him through the room, sir, back again towards the door, Kick'd aud cuff'd him, iv my anger, back against my chamber door, Then I kicked him j^et once more. But this midnight bird beguiling my stirr'd spirit into smiling, By the -wretched, rabid, ravenous look his hungry visage wore, " Tho'," I said, " thou art a freedman, thou hast gone so much to seed, man, So I'll give you one good feed, man, as you seem to be so poor — One good feed in your sore need, man, as you seem so very poor ; The eggs and meat shall be my treat, if with light work you'll pay the score." Quoth the nigger — "Work no more." Much I marvelled this ungainly nigger should refuse so plainly Just to do a little work, for food he craved and needed sore, For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Should decline to labor seeing that he was so blasted poor ; Should refuse to earn a dinner, which he hungered for, I'm sure, And would have damned his soul by stealing had he hoped to make the door : Escaping thence to — work no more. Awhile I sat absorbed in musing, what meant he by this refusing, Till, mad, I turned into abusing the odious, odorous blackamoor. " Sure," said I. " j'ou must be crazy, to be so infernal lazy, So cussedly, outrageous lazy, as to want to work, no more j

You ugly, grim ungainly, ghastly, heathen, savage blackamoor, Will you even work for wages— food and clothes and payment sure ?" Quoth the nigger—" Work no more." " Nigger," said I, " horrid demon ! Nigger still if slave or freeman. Pause and ponder ere you answer this one question, I implore : Hove you got no sense of feeling ? do you mean to live by stealing ? Or by working and fair dealing ; tell me truly, I implore, On your honor as a nigger, will you ever labor more ? Plough in corn or hoe in cottou, as you did in days of yore ?" Quoth old Nigger — " Nevermore !" Startled by the stillness broken by reply so flatly spoken, " Doubtless," said I, " this big nigger once could eat enough for four, When on some grand rice plantation, he could out-eat all creation, Until his corporal situation warned him he could eat no more ; Scorning any calculation of how much cash it cost, I'm sure, For the master paid the piper in the good old days of yore, Days he'll revel in no more !" " Nigger," said I, " thing of evil ! quit my sight ! go to the devil ! Or even yet, pause, reconsider terms I'll offer you no more. Tell me truly, I implore you, for the last time I conjure you, If good wages I ensure you, and clothes the best you ever wore, Will you work three days in seven, at tasks far lighter than of yore ? Only three short da} r s in seven — labor light and payment sure ?" Quoth the nigger — "Work no more." " Be that word our sign of parting, nigger man," I said, upstarting, " Get you gone to where you came from, let me see 3'our face no more ; Quick, vamose, cut dirt — skedaddle — seek some far-off, distant shore, Haste, relieve me of thut visage — darken not again my door, Join the army— go to Texas! Never come back here to vex us, Take your gaze from off my victuals — take your carcase from my door " — Quoth the nigger — " Nevermore." And the nigger, never working, still is shirking — still is shirking Every kind of honest labor, in the house or out of door, And his eye has all the seeming of a vulture' B t starved and dreaming ; And my bacon, geutly steaming, tempts him still to cross my floor, But I'll gamble with, that poker that I hurled at him before, That I'll maul his very lights out, if he dares to pass that door, He shall work or — eat no more ! — ' Figaro.'