And let the fight go as it would— Let North or South prevail— He always kept his courage up, And never let it fail. And he often used to tell us, “Children, don’t forget to pray; For the darkest time of morning Is just ’fore the break of day.” Well, one morning bright and early We heard the fife and drum, And the booming of the cannon— The Yankee troops had come. When the word ran through the village, The colored folks are free— In the kitchens and the cabins We held a jubilee. When they told us Mister Lincoln Said that slavery was dead, We just poured our prayers and blessings Upon his precious head. We just laughed, and danced, and shouted, And prayed, and sang, and cried, And we thought dear Uncle Jacob Would fairly crack his side. But when old Mistus heard it, She groaned and hardly spoke; When she had to lose her servants, Her heart was almost broke. ’Twas a sight to see our people Going out, the troops to meet, Almost dancing to the music, And marching down the street. After years of pain and parting, Our chains was broke in two, And we was so mighty happy, We didn’t know what to do. But we soon got used to freedom, Though the way at first was rough; But we weathered through the tempest, For slavery made us tough. But we had one awful sorrow, It almost turned my head, When a mean and wicked cretur Shot Mister Lincoln dead. ’Twas a dreadful solemn morning, I just staggered on my feet; And the women they were crying And screaming in the street. But if many prayers and blessings Could bear him to the throne, I should think when Mister Lincoln died, That heaven just got its own. Then we had another President,— What do you call his name? Well, if the colored folks forget him They wouldn’t be much to blame. We thought he’d be the Moses Of all the colored race; But when the Rebels pressed us hard He never showed his face.