FUGITIVE’S TRIUMPH.

Go, go, thou that enslav’st me,
  Now, now thy power is o’er;
Long, long have I obeyed thee,
  I’m not a slave any more;
    No, no—­oh, no! 
I’m a free man ever more!

Thou, thou brought’st me ever,
  Deep, deep sorrow and pain;
But I have left thee forever,
  Nor will I serve thee again;
    No, no—­oh, no! 
No, I’ll not serve thee again.

Tyrant! thou hast bereft me
  Home, friends, pleasures so sweet;
Now, forever I’ve left thee,
  Thou and I never shall meet;
    No, no—­oh, no! 
Thou and I never shall meet.

Joys, joys, bright as the morning,
  Now, now, on me will pour,
Hope, hope, on me is dawning,
  I’m not a slave any more!
    No, no—­oh, no,
I’m a FREE MAN evermore!

A SONG FOR FREEDOM.

AIR—­Dandy Jim.

Come all ye bondmen far and near,
Let’s put a song in massa’s ear,
It is a song for our poor race,
Who’re whipped and trampled with disgrace.

Chorus. 
My old massa tells me O
This is a land of freedom O;
Let’s look about and see if’t is so,
Just as massa tells me O.

He tells us of that glorious one,
I think his name was Washington,
How he did fight for liberty,
To save a threepence tax on tea.

Chorus. 
My old massa, &c.

And then he tells us that there was
A Constitution, with this clause,
That all men equal were created,
How often have we heard it stated.

Chorus. 
My old massa, &c.

But now we look about and see,
That we poor blacks are not so free;
We ’re whipped and thrashed about like fools,
And have no chance at common schools.

Chorus. 
Still, my old massa, &c.

They take our wives, insult and mock,
And sell our children on the block,
Then choke us if we say a word,
And say that “niggers” shan’t be heard.

Chorus. 
Still, my old massa, &c.

Our preachers, too, with whip and cord,
Command obedience in the Lord;
They say they learn it from the book,
But for ourselves we dare not look.

Chorus. 
Still, my old massa tells me O,
This is a Christian country O, &c.

There is a country far away,
Friend Hopper says ’t is Canada,
And if we reach Victoria’s shore,
He says that we are slaves no more.

Chorus. 
Now hasten all bondmen, let us go
And leave this Christian country O;
Haste to the land of the British Queen,
Where whips for negroes are not seen.

Now if we go, we must take the night—­
We’re sure to die if we come in sight—­
The blood-hounds will be on our track,
And wo to us if they fetch us back.

Chorus. 
Now haste all bondmen, let us go,
And leave this Christian country O;
God help us to Victoria’s shore,
Where we are free and slaves no more.