Blue Skies in Unionville by Bobbie Wells
I plant the crop, and till the soil. I pick tobacco, black man’s toil.
Miles River Neck I call my home. Slave child’s soul is all I own.
I catch the crab at dawn’s first light. I shoot the turkey at edge of night.
I feel the lash of Mastah’s fury, I dig potato, hurry, hurry!
One day sweet, the next day sorrow, It’s Mastah’s whim on the morrow.
I hunt the deer in silent wood . Venison stew taste mighty good.
I sop the gravy with Ma’s corn pone ,
Then buff Big man’s boots till they shone.
I fish for perch at end of dock,
Catch big ole string by 6 o’clock.
They fry up fine in Granny’s meal,
ground from corn in yonder field.
Crack the whip, get on your knees.
No talking back, It’s yes sir, please.
I sing ‘Swing Low” with my kin. I hum a tune at day’s end.
I go to bed with fingers weary, rise up early bright and cheery.
I praise the Lord for each day.
Boss man say, “boy bail up that hay!”
Big storm’s a coming, and trouble ahead.
Mastah’s worried, and may are dead.
Brother and cousin are choosing sides.
Freedom’s coming on rising tide.
Mr. Lincoln’s gonna make it right.
Me and pappy going off to fight.
Union soldiers, black and proud,
We blow away slave man’s cloud.
My baby girl, she own the earth.
She never know slave man’s dearth.
Sky of blue and river still.
Growing free in Unionville.
Bobbie Wells is a resident of Unionville, Maryland