Then choke us if we say a word,
And say that "niggers" shan't be heard.

Chorus.
Still, my old massa, &c.

Our preachers, too, with whip and cord,
Command obedience in the Lord;
They say they learn it from the book,
But for ourselves we dare not look.

Chorus.
Still, my old massa tells me O,
This is a _Christian_ country O, &c.

There is a country far away,
Friend Hopper says 't is Canada,
And if we reach Victoria's shore,
He says that we are slaves no more.

Chorus.
Now hasten all bondmen, let us go
And leave this Christian country O;
Haste to the land of the British Queen,
Where whips for negroes are not seen.

Now if we go, we must take the night--
We're sure to die if we come in sight--
The blood-hounds will be on our track,
And wo to us if they fetch us back.