Song of the Negro Boatmen
Oh, praise an' tanks! De Lord he comeTo set de people free;An' massa tink it day ob doom,An' we ob jubilee.De Lord dat heap de Red Sea wavesHe jus' as 'trong as den;He say de word: we las' night slaves;To-day, de Lord's freemen.De yam will grow, de cotton blow,We'll hab de rice an' corn;Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hearDe driver blow his horn!
Ole massa on he trabbels gone;He leaf de land behindDe Lord's breff blow him furder on,Like corn-shuck in de wind.We own de hoe, we own de plough,We own de hands dat hold;We sell de pig, we sell de cow,But nebber chile be sold.De yam will grow, de cotton blow,We'll hab de rice an' corn;Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hearDe driver blow his horn!
We pray de Lord: he gib us signsDat some day we be free;De norf-wind tell it to de pines,De wild-duck to de sea;We tink it when de church-bell ring,We dream it in de dream;De rice-bird mean it when he sing,De eagle when be scream.De yam will grow, de cotton blow,We'll hab de rice an' cornOh nebber you fear, if nebber you hearDe driver blow his horn!
We know de promise nebber fail,An' nebber lie de word;So like de 'postles in de jail,We waited for de LordAn' now he open ebery door,An' trow away de key;He tink we lub him so before,We hub him better free.De yam will grow, de cotton blow,He'll gib de rice an' corn;Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hearDe driver blow his horn!
So sing our dusky gondoliers;And with a secret pain,And smiles that seem akin to tears,We hear the wild refrain.
We dare not share the negro's trust,Nor yet his hope deny;We only know that God is just,And every wrong shall die.
Rude seems the song; each swarthy face,Flame-lighted, ruder stillWe start to think that hapless raceMust shape our good or ill;
That laws of changeless justice bindOppressor with oppressed;And, close as sin and suffering joined,We march to Fate abreast.
Sing on, poor hearts! your chant shall beOur sign of blight or bloom,The Vala-song of Liberty,Or death-rune of our doom!
Words in this poem
- tink v. i.
- To make a sharp, shrill noise; to tinkle. Wyclif (1 Cor. xiii. [OE. tinken; of imitative origin. Cf. Ting a tinkling, Tinker.]
- trow v. i.
- To believe; to trust; to think or suppose. [OE. trowen, AS.treówan to trust, believe, fr. treów trust, treówe true, faithful. See True.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- hapless a.
- Without hap or luck; luckless; unfortunate; unlucky; unhappy; as, hapless youth; hapless maid.
- changeless a.
- That can not be changed; constant; as, a changeless purpose.
- oppressor n.
- One who oppresses; one who imposes unjust burdens on others; one who harasses others with unjust laws or unreasonable severity. [L.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Song of the Negro Boatmen is in the public domain. This text is taken from Anti-Slavery Poems and Songs of Labor and Reform, Complete Volume III of The Works of John Greenleaf Whittier, Project Gutenberg ebook #9580; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Greenleaf Whittier, Song of the Negro Boatmen, in Anti-Slavery Poems and Songs of Labor and Reform (1865), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9580, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/whittier-anti-slavery/song-of-the-negro-boatmen.html, id L24916.
Form and metre
Song of the Negro Boatmen is 68 lines in 9 stanzas. The commonest rhyme scheme is ABAB, in 3 of the 9 stanzas; the rest vary or could not be confirmed. The metre is common measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%).
See other poems in common measure.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-ABCBC-D-D come · freeA · doom · jubileeA · wavesB · denC · slavesB · freemenC · blow · cornD · hear · hornD
- 2 ABABCDCD-E-E goneA · behindB · onA · windB · ploughC · holdD · cowC · soldD · blow · cornE · hear · hornE
- 3 ABABCDCD-E-E signsA · freeB · pinesA · seaB · ringC · dreamD · singC · screamD · blow · cornE · hear · hornE
- 4 A-A-BCBC-D-D failA · word · jailA · lord · doorB · keyC · beforeB · freeC · blow · cornD · hear · hornD
- 5 ABAB gondoliersA · painB · tearsA · refrainB
- 6 ABAB trustA · denyB · justA · dieB
- 7 ABAB faceA · stillB · raceA · illB
- 8 -A-A bind · oppressedA · joined · abreastA
- 9 -A-A be · bloomA · liberty · doomA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against common measure. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Oh, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come | 8 | ········ |
| To set de people free; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| An' massa tink it day ob doom, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An' we ob jubilee. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves | 8 | ········ |
| He jus' as 'trong as den; | 6 | ······ |
| He say de word: we las' night slaves; | 8 | ········ |
| To-day, de Lord's freemen. | 6 | ····/˘ |
| De yam will grow, de cotton blow, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| We'll hab de rice an' corn; | 6 | ······ |
| Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear | 10 | ·········· |
| De driver blow his horn! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Ole massa on he trabbels gone; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| He leaf de land behind | 6 | ······ |
| De Lord's breff blow him furder on, | 8 | ········ |
| Like corn-shuck in de wind. | 6 | ······ |
| We own de hoe, we own de plough, | 8 | ········ |
| We own de hands dat hold; | 6 | ······ |
| We sell de pig, we sell de cow, | 8 | ········ |
| But nebber chile be sold. | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| De yam will grow, de cotton blow, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| We'll hab de rice an' corn; | 6 | ······ |
| Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear | 10 | ·········· |
| De driver blow his horn! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| We pray de Lord: he gib us signs | 8 | ········ |
| Dat some day we be free; | 6 | ······ |
| De norf-wind tell it to de pines, | 8 | ········ |
| De wild-duck to de sea; | 6 | ······ |
| We tink it when de church-bell ring, | 8 | ········ |
| We dream it in de dream; | 6 | ······ |
| De rice-bird mean it when he sing, | 8 | ········ |
| De eagle when be scream. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| De yam will grow, de cotton blow, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| We'll hab de rice an' corn | 6 | ······ |
| Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear | 10 | ·········· |
| De driver blow his horn! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| We know de promise nebber fail, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' nebber lie de word; | 6 | ······ |
| So like de 'postles in de jail, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| We waited for de Lord | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| An' now he open ebery door, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| An' trow away de key; | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| He tink we lub him so before, | 8 | ········ |
| We hub him better free. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| De yam will grow, de cotton blow, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| He'll gib de rice an' corn; | 6 | ······ |
| Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear | 10 | ·········· |
| De driver blow his horn! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| So sing our dusky gondoliers; | 8 | ··//˘·˘/ |
| And with a secret pain, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And smiles that seem akin to tears, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| We hear the wild refrain. | 6 | ····˘/ |
| We dare not share the negro's trust, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Nor yet his hope deny; | 6 | ····˘/ |
| We only know that God is just, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And every wrong shall die. | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| Rude seems the song; each swarthy face, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Flame-lighted, ruder still | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| We start to think that hapless race | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Must shape our good or ill; | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| That laws of changeless justice bind | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Oppressor with oppressed; | 6 | ˘/˘·˘/ |
| And, close as sin and suffering joined, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| We march to Fate abreast. | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Sing on, poor hearts! your chant shall be | 8 | ········ |
| Our sign of blight or bloom, | 7 | /˘····· |
| The Vala-song of Liberty, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| Or death-rune of our doom! | 7 | ····/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.