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Paul Laurence Dunbar - Chrismus On The Plantation
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It was Chrismus Eve, I mind hit fu` a mighty gloomy day--
  Bofe de weathah an` de people--not a one of us was gay;
  Cose you `ll t`ink dat `s mighty funny `twell I try to mek hit cleah,
  Fu` a da`ky `s allus happy when de holidays is neah.

  But we wasn`t, fu` dat mo`nin` Mastah `d tol` us we mus` go,
  He `d been payin` us sence freedom, but he couldn`t pay no mo`;`
  He wa`n`t nevah used to plannin` `fo` he got so po` an` ol`,
  So he gwine to give up tryin`, an` de homestead mus` be sol`.

  I kin see him stan`in` now erpon de step ez cleah ez day,
  Wid de win` a-kind o` fondlin` thoo his haih all thin an` gray;
  An` I `membah how he trimbled when he said, "It`s ha `d fu` me,
  Not to mek yo` Chrismus brightah, but I `low it wa`n`t to be."

  All de women was a-cryin`, an` de men, too, on de sly,
  An` I noticed somep`n shinin` even in ol` Mastah`s eye.
  But we all stood still to listen ez ol` Ben come f`om de crowd
  An` spoke up, a-try`n` to steady down his voice and mek it loud:--

  "Look hyeah, Mastah, I `s been servin` you` fu` lo! dese many yeahs,
  An` now, sence we `s got freedom an` you `s kind o` po`, hit `pears
  Dat you want us all to leave you `cause you don`t t`ink you can pay.
  Ef my membry has n`t fooled me, seem dat whut I hyead you say.

  "Er in othah wo`ds, you wants us to fu`git dat you `s been kin`,
  An` ez soon ez you is he`pless, we `s to leave you hyeah behin`.
  Well, ef dat `s de way dis freedom ac`s on people, white er black,
  You kin jes` tell Mistah Lincum fu` to tek his freedom back.

  "We gwine wo`k dis ol` plantation fu` whatevah we kin git,
  Fu` I know hit did suppo`t us, an` de place kin do it yit.
  Now de land is yo`s, de hands is ouahs, an` I reckon we `ll be brave,
  An` we `ll bah ez much ez you do w`en we has to scrape an` save."

  Ol` Mastah stood dah trimblin`, but a-smilin` thoo his teahs,
  An` den hit seemed jes` nachul-like, de place fah rung wid cheahs,
  An` soon ez dey was quiet, some one sta`ted sof an` low:
  "Praise God," an` den we all jined in, "from whom all blessin`s flow!"

  Well, dey was n`t no use tryin`, ouah min`s was sot to stay,
  An` po` ol` Mastah could n`t plead ner baig, ner drive us `way,
  An` all at once, hit seemed to us, de day was bright agin,
  So evahone was gay dat night, an` watched de Chrismus in.
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