“We call them stolen property,
Each woman, man, and child
Formerly safe in slavery,
In ‘freedom’ now beguiled,
“Stolen by Yankee bayonets,
The hand of government
Wrenching our purchase, theft which whets
Malice but rapes consent.
“Deprived of our protective care
Extinction is their lot,”
Thus spoke a man with savoir faire,
His voice with anger shot.
“So each and every one of us
Regard your thieving souls,
As to a banquet sumptuous
Bring excrement in bowls,
“Leaving behind the stench and smell
Of refuse, crass and mean,
These ‘freedmen’ you condemn to hell
And malice whetted keen.”
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