"Who dares an English peasant flog,
Or buy, or sell, or steal away?
Who sheds his blood? treats him like dog,
Or fetters him like beasts of prey?
"He has a cottage, he a wife;
If child he has, that child is free.
I am depriv'd of married life,
And my poor child were slave like me.
"Unlike his home, ours is a shed
Of pine-tree trunks, unsquar'd, ill-clos'd;
Blanket we have, but not a bed,
Whene'er to short, chill sleep dispos'd.
"Our clothing's ragged. All our food
Is rice, dried fish, and Indian meal.
Hard, scanty fare! Oh, would I could
Make White men Negroes' miseries feel!"