An Appeal Poem by James Ephraim McGirt

An old man living near his master,
Ever since he was made free;
He saw in him an evil spirit,
A spirit that should never be.

The old man's heart seemed to be breaking,
For he had seen it several years,
It seemed he could not bear it longer,
He speaks with eyes half filled with tears:

'Pray tell me, masser, why yer scorn me,
Sa is it simply 'cos I'm free?
Yet know ise nebber tryed ter horm yer,
Always so kind ise tried ter be.

'I'm sem as I wus when yer owned me,
What e'n yer ask I tried ter do;
Pray is it sumtin I hab done?
Un treat me like Ise one ob yo.

'De truf Ise glad Ise got my freedom—
Not simply do ter 'scape yer rod—
Ise glad ob it down in mi boosom,
Dis lub ob freedom come frum God.

'De truf I know, I'm little ignorant,
But now I make er urnis plee;
What if u'd been in mi condition,
How would yer do if u wus me?

'Now dis, oh masser, I pray do tell me,
I'le do az 'u would now if I can;
Fur what I do is not ter spite yer,
I'm simply tryin' ter be a man.

''U know Ise proven miself harmless,
I would not hom yer when I could;
For when yer left yer homestid wid me,
Did I not prove mi self as good?

'Jist think when yer was off in battle,
Fiteing fur what yer thot wus rite;
Think how I toiled, and fed yer family,
'N how I kept dem safe at nite.

'Fitein ter keep me frum mi freedom—
'N dat yer noed I node full well—
In all ob dat wus I not faithful?
If dis aint so I pray de tell.

'Pray tell me when the war was ober,
Sa, what did mi ole mistis say;
'N did her say I tried ter hom her,
'N did I e're fuse ter obey?

'Den won't yer family fur purtection,
Den left as young lambs by mi side;
'N 'fore I'd let de hole wif hom dem,
Masser, yer now, I would hab died.

'I want yer think er bout de madder,
'N look de case rite thro' and thro';
'N see de reason 'u 'unt treat me,
De same as do Ise one ob yo.

'I want ter stay on dis farm wid yer,
My arm dis great big fiel' did clar,
'N more dan dat hur's mi affection,
My Ma and Pa is burred hur.

'I 'unt do less we can in union,
I lub ter lib whur der is love,
I won't stand dis hur way much longer,
I 'speck its best dat I should move.'