Very soon the Yankee teachers Came down and set up school; But, oh! how the Rebs did hate it, -- It was agin' their rule. Our masters always tried to hide Book learning from our eyes; Knowledge didn't agree with slavery -- 'Twould make us all too wise. But some of us would try to steal A little from the book, And put the words together, And learn by hook or crook. I remember Uncle Caldwell, Who took pot liquor fat And greased the pages of his book, And hit it in his hat And had his master ever seen The leaves upon his head, He'd have thought them greasy papers, But nothing to be read. And there's Mr. Turner's Ben, Who heard the children spell, And picked the words right up by heart, And learned to read 'em well. Well, the Northern folks kept sending The Yankee teachers down; And they stood right up and helped us, Though Rebs did sneer and frown. And, I longed to read my Bible, For precious words it said; But when I begun to learn it, Folks just shook their heads, And said there is no use trying, Oh! Chloe, you're too late; But I was rising sixty, I had no time to wait. So I got a pair of glasses, And straight to work I went, And never stopped till I could read The hymns and Testament. Then I got a little cabin A place to call my own -- And I felt as independent As the queen upon her throne. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES TO HANNAH AND PHOEBE by BERNARD BARTON WASTE GROUND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN AT A FUNERAL by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A LADY OF PARIS BORDONE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIORGIONE: FELICE'S SONG by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE BOOKS I OUGHT TO READ by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN SUBWAY TRACK-WALKERS by DANA BURNET LINES ADDRESSED TO THE REV. J.T. BECHER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |