“Well, sposin’ de Yankees beats?” “Ain’t you got no sense, nigger? Like to see any ole Yankees lick ole Marse Billy And young Marse Clay!” “Hi, woman, ain’t dat de trufe!” “Well, den⁠—” “But I sees ’em all, jus’ goin’ and goin’, Goin’ to war like Joshua, goin’ like David, And it makes me want to be free. Ain’t you never thought At all about bein’ free?” “Sho’, co’se I thought of it. I always reckoned when ole Marse Billy died, Old Mistis mebbe gwine to set some of us free, Mebbe she will.” “But we-uns gwine to be old den, We won’t be young and have the use of our hands, We won’t see our young ’uns growin’ up free around us, We won’t have the strength to hoe our own co’n ourselves, I want to be free, like me, while I got my strength.”