A Virginian's Appeal Poem by Alfred Gibbs Campbell

Shall Virginia sleep on
Till her liberties are gone?
Shall the plottings of her foes
Go unchecked beneath her nose?
Can she, unresisting, see
Women teach the A. B. C.?
No! that mystic trinity
Is the foe of slavery,
And those harmless looking letters
Yet may break our servants' fetters,
And give Uncle Tom the key
To his prison-house, that he,
Taking legs, may run away,
Guided by the North-star's ray.
This, Virginians, must not be!
Without 'niggers' what are we?
Hungry, miserable sinners,
Who would cook our dainty dinners?
Who would till our farms and fields,
Gather in what harvest yields?
Who would all our work perform
In the house or on the farm?
Who, when money got quite tight,
Would refill our purses light,
If we could not 'niggers' breed
For a sale in time of need?
Up! up, to the rescue, then!
Act as it becometh men!
Let Marm Douglass promptly know
You 'll not stand the deadly blow
Which she aims at slavery
By her mystic A. B. C.
Let her know you 've jails to let,
And a cell in one she 'll get
With her dangerous alphabet!


She 's caged at last; for six months more
May we breathe freely as we did before.