OR, THE WORLD HAS CHANGED. 4l 



Flames first kindled by Madame 8towe, 



Crazy John Brown then made it roar, 

 On to the bloody shirt to-day, 



Flaunted by grannies Ben and Hoar. 



May be the F-ord to Christianize, 



Allowed Yanks to do the stealing ; 

 Sold the niggers, then felt the sin. 



Got the pay, then did the squealing. 



And so the nig was the winner, 



But our Yank he got the credit ; 

 Poor Dixie was a cat's paw made, 



And to the Rebel falls the debit. 



But slaves were happy in the main. 



Of course, exceptions in all cases, 

 No heavenly state here below, 



'Tis not in reach of earthly races. 



Let's have old Sambo take the stand, 



Let old time nigger tell the truth. 

 Which times were best, freedom times, 



Or the old slave times of your youth. 

 Were you happier then or now ? 



Give us truth, weigh upon the scales. 

 As slaves were you not free from cares. 



Your only fears the lash and sales ? 



Didn't love poor bucra overseer, 



Your terror was the patter-roll ; 

 To leave your home must have a pass, 



Or risk your heels to save your poll. 



Have you forgot your little thefts, 



Of all the chickens you have stole, 

 Of the tater patches you have robbed, 



Couldn't count them for your soul. 



