Beside his cabin door,
When white men stole him from his home
To see it never more.

P

P is the Parent, sorrowing,
And weeping all alone--
The child he loved to lean upon,
His only son, is gone!

Q

Q is the Quarter, where the slave
On coarsest food is fed,
And where, with toil and sorrow worn,
He seeks his wretched bed.

R

R is the "Rice-swamp, dank and lone,"
Where, weary, day by day,
He labors till the fever wastes
His strength and life away.

S

S is the Sugar, that the slave
Is toiling hard to make,
To put into your pie and tea,