HURRY! Before we’re all dead men!
Musically: foretelling a massive migration. Refugees on the move. Freedom, hey-day! Hey-day, freedom! Freedom, hey-day, freedom! We’re free! We’re free! We’re free, at last! God be thanked!
Of their chains, they broke. They fled. They broke away. Go! Let us extol the Lord with our praises!
Musically: Lift up your voices, and sing praises unto the Lord. Sing, Joy, joy, joy, down in my heart… Till they exhaust themselves. Say amen! No way did they think that this would ever happen. Free at last!
Freedom, hey-day! Hey-day, freedom! Freedom, hey-day, freedom!
That all persons held as slaves” within the rebellious states “are, and henceforward shall be free.”
No, no, you have to secure your own liberty.
Dear Mr. President. It is my Desire to be free and to go to see my people. My mistress won’t let me. Please let me know if we are free and what I can do.
Sing Follow the Drinkin’ Gourd.
I had a little truble in giting away, But as the lord led the Children of Isrel to the land of Canon, so he led me to a land whare freedom will rain in spite of earth and hell. I am free from the slaver’s lash. Your affectionate husband. Kiss Daniel for me.
Yes, we’re free.
Sir: I got your letter and was glad to find you had not forgotten me, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this for harboring Rebs. Glad you are still living.
Give my love to Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. We are kindly treated, but sometimes we overhear others saying, “The colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks, but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Col. Anderson. Many darkies would have been proud, as I used to was, to call you master.
Here I draw my wages every Saturday night, but in Tennessee there was never any pay day for the Negroes any more than for the horses and cows.
I would rather stay here and starve and die if it comes to that than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters.
Sing, The Walls Came Tumblin’ Down. Freedom, hey-day! Hey-day, freedom! Freedom, hey-day, freedom!
Musically: auld lang syne. Playing down their slavery past. With all the celebration, a little wistfulness. Imagine a mass exodus. All to which not a complaint. But their fate, what will it be? Traveling day and night, well tired, very stiff. Lucky! No, not just lucky, but God’s Chosen Ones.
With a strong hand, the Lord brought them out of the land of Egypt. And they were smiling ever.