There is a country far away, Friend Hopper says ’tis Canada, And if we reach Victoria’s shore, He says that we are slaves no more. Chorus. Now hasten all bondmen, let us go And leave this _Christian_ country O; Haste to the land of the British Queen, Where whips for negroes are not seen. Now if we go, we must take the night-- We’re sure to die if we come in sight, The bloodhounds will be on our track, And we to us if they fetch us back. Chorus. Now haste all bondmen, let us go, And leave this _Christian_ country O; God help us to Victoria’s shore, Where we are free and slaves no more. THE SLAVE’S SONG. AIR--Dearest Maie. Now, freemen, listen to my song, a story I’ll relate, It happened in the valley of the old Carolina State: They marched me to the cotton field, at early break of day, And worked me there till late sunset, without a cent of pay. Chorus. They worked me all the day, Without a bit of pay, And believed me when I told them That I would not run away. Massa gave me a holiday, and said he’d give me more, I thanked him very kindly, and shoved my boat from shore; I drifted down the river, my heart was light and free, I had my eye on the bright north star, and thought of liberty. They worked me all the day, Without a bit of pay, So I took my flight in the middle of the night, When the sun was gone away. I jumped out of my good old boat and shoved it from the shore, And travelled faster that night than I had ever done before; I came up to a farmer’s house, just at the break of day, And saw a white man standing there, said he, “You are run away.” They worked me all the day, Without a bit of pay, So I took my flight in the middle of the night, When the sun was gone away. I told him I had left the whip, and baying of the hound, To find a place where man was man, if such there could be found, That I heard in Canada, all mankind were free, And that I was going there in search of liberty. They worked me all the day, Without a bit of pay, So I took my flight in the middle of the night, When the sun was gone away. THERE’S A GOOD TIME COMING. There’s a good time coming, boys, A good time coming; There’s a good time coming, boys, Wait a little longer. We may not live to see the day, But earth shall glisten in the ray Of the good time coming; Cannon balls may aid the truth, But thought’s a weapon stronger; We’ll win our battle by its aid, Wait a little longer. O, there’s a good time, &c.