H.T. Burleigh
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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“Who are you dusky woman, so ancient hardly human, With your woollywhite and turban'd head, and bare bony feet? Why rising by the roadside here, do you the colors greet?” “Who are you dusky woman?” (’Tis while our army lines Carolina’s sands and pines, Forth from thy hovel door thou Ethiopia com’st to me, As under doughty Sherman I march tow’rd the sea.) “Me master, years a hundred since, from my parents sunder’d, sunder’d, A little child, they caught me as the savage beast is caught; Then hither ’cross the sea the cruel slaver brought me “Me a little child the cruel slaver brought.” No further does she say, but lingering all the day, Her highborne turban’d head she wags, and rolls her darkling eye, And court’sies to the regiments, the guidons moving by, “What is it fateful woman, so blear, hardly human? Why wag your head with turban bound, yellow, red, and green? Are the things so strange and marvelous you see or have seen, or have seen?”
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