So he left the plains of Kansas and their bitter woes behind him—
Slipt off into Virginia, where the statesmen all are born—
Hired a farm by Harper's Ferry, and no one knew where to find him,
Or whether he had turned parson, and was jacketed and shorn,
For Old Brown,
Osawatomie Brown,
Mad as he was, knew texts enough to wear a parson's gown.
He bought no ploughs and harrows, spades and shovels, or such trifles,
But quietly to his rancho there came, by every train,
Boxes full of pikes and pistols, and his well-beloved Sharp's rifles;
And eighteen other madmen joined their leader there again.
Says Old Brown,
Osawatomie Brown,
"Boys, we have got an army large enough to whip the town!
"Whip the town and seize the muskets, free the negroes, and then arm them—
Carry the County and the State; ay, and all the potent South;
On their own heads be the slaughter, if their victims rise to harm them—
These Virginians! who believed not, nor would heed the warning mouth."
Says Old Brown,
Osawatomie Brown,
"The world shall see a Republic, or my name is not John Brown!"
'T was the sixteenth of October, on the evening of a Sunday—
"This good work," declared the Captain," shall be on a holy night!"
It was on a Sunday evening, and before the noon of Monday,
With two sons, and Captain Stevens, fifteen privates—black and white—
