OR, THE AVORLD HAS CHANGED. 193 



OUR OLD CHIEFTAIN, 



(Mrs. Davis offers her husband medicine.) 



Pray excuse me, my dear wife, 

 Medicine cannot save my life ; 

 Pray excuse me, a gentle wave, 

 "With his enfeebled hand, he gave. 



Pray excuse me from the pain, 

 For to no good it can attain. 

 Pray excuse me, was his last word. 

 His last speech ever heard. 



Pray excuse me, I must away ; 

 I must go, cannot longer stay. 

 Pray excuse me, my dear friends, 

 For angel spirits now attends. 



Pray excuse me, oh, my South, 

 Last words from his mouth. 

 Pray excuse me, I cannot take, 

 Give to widows and happy make. 



Pray excuse me, I cannot receive, 

 Let your alms orphans relieve 

 Pray excuse me, nor think me proud. 

 Want not charity, prefer my shroud. 



Pray excuse me, ye who hate. 

 For I have been a man of fate. 

 Pray excuse me, ye who spurn, 

 For my people my heart did burn, 



