SOME tell us 't is a burnin' shame To make the naygers fight; An' that the thrade of bein' kilt Belongs but to the white: But as for me, upon my sowl! So liberal are we here, I'll let Sambo be murthered instead of myself, On every day in the year. On every day in the year, boys, And in every hour of the day; The right to be kilt I'll divide wid him, An' divil a word I'll say. In battle's wild commotion I should n't at all object If Sambo's body should stop a ball That was comin' for me direct; And the prod of a Southern bagnet, So ginerous are we here, I'll resign, and let Sambo take it On every day in the year. On every day in the year, boys, And wid none o' your nasty pride, All my right in a Southern bagnet prod Wid Sambo I'll divide! The men who object to Sambo Should take his place and fight; And it's betther to have a nayger's hue Than a liver that's wake an' white. Though Sambo's black as the ace of spades, His finger a thrigger can pull, And his eye runs sthraight on the barrel-sights From undher its thatch of wool. So hear me all, boys darlin', Don't think I'm tippin' you chaff, The right to be kilt we'll divide wid him, And give him the largest half! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 14. THE COMPLAINT by MARK AKENSIDE MONCH AND JUNGFRAU by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG BEAUTY MAKES US HAPPY by PHILIP AYRES A TRINITY OF MOTHERHOOD by FRED CLARE BALDWIN A SONG OF APPLE-BLOOM by GORDON BOTTOMLEY ON SEEING MISS FONTENELLE IN A FAVOURITE CHARACTER by ROBERT BURNS |