Now, Miss Sue, take up. I jes' like to talk to you, honey 'bout dem days
ob slavery; 'cause you look like you wan'ta hear all 'bout 'em. All
'bout de ol' rebels; an' dem niggers who left wid de Yankees an' were
sat free, but, poor things, dey had no place to go after dey got freed.
Baby, all us wuz helpless an' ain't had nothin'.
I wuz free a long time 'fo' I knew it. My Mistess still hired me out,
'til one day in talkin' to de woman she hired me to, she, "God bless her
soul", she told me, "Fannie yo' are free, an' I don't have to pay your
Master for you now." You stay with me. She didn't give me no money, but
let me stay there an' work for vitals an' clothes 'cause I ain't had no
where to go. Jesus, Jesus, God help us! Um, Um, Um! You Chillun don't
know. I didn't say nothin' when she wuz tellin' me, but done 'cided to
leave her an' go back to the white folks dat fus own me.
I plan' to 'tend a big dance. Let me see, I think it wuz on a Thursday
night. Some how it tooken got out, you know how gals will talk an' it
got to ol' Bil Duffeys ears (ol' dog!) an', baby do you know, mind you
'twont slavery time, but de 'oman got so mad cause I runned away from
her dat she get a whole passel of 'em out looking for me. Dar wuz a boy,
who heard 'em talkin' an' sayin' dey wuz goin' to kill me if I were
found. I will never forget dis boy com' up to me while I wuz dancin' wid
another man an' sed, "nobody knowes where you ar', Miss Moore, dey is
lookin' fer you, an' is gwine kill you, so yo' come on wid me." Have
mercy, have mercy my Lord, honey, you kin jes 'magin' my feelin' fer a
minute. I couldn't move. You know de gals an' boys all got 'round me an'
told me to go wid Squreball, dat he would show me de way to my old
Mistess house. Out we took, an' we ran one straight mile up de road, den
through de woods, den we had to go through a straw field. Dat field
seem' like three miles. After den, we met another skit of woods. Miss
Sue, baby my eyes, (ha! ha! ha!) wuz bucked an' too if it is setch a
thin' as being so scared yo' hair stand on yo' head, I know, mine did.
An' dat wasn't all, dat boy an' me puffed an' sweated like bulls. Was
feared to stop, cause we might have been tracked.
At last we neared de house an' I started throwin' rocks on de porch.
Child I look an' heard dat white 'oman when she hit dat floor, bouncin'
out dat bed she mus' felt dat I wuz comin' back to her. She called all
de men an' had 'em throw a rope to me an' day drawed me up a piece to de
window, den I held my arms up an' dey snatched me in. Honey, Squreball
fled to de woods. I ain't never heard nothin' 'bout him. An' do you
know, I didn't leave day 'oman's house no more for fifteen years?
Lord! Lord! honey, Squreball an' I use to sing dis song.
'Twas 1861, the Yankees made de Rebels run
We'll all go stone blin'
When de Johny's come a marchin' home.
Child an' here's another one we use to sing. 'Member de war done bin
when we would sing dese songs. Listen now:
Ain't no more blowin' of dat fo' day horn
I will sing, brethern, I will sing.
A col' frosty mornin' de nigger's mighty good
Take your ax upon your shoulder.
Nigger talk to de woods,
Ain't no mor' blowin' of dat fo' day horn.
I will sing brethern, I will sing.