Poetry: A Dialogue

Stranger.- Farmer, while the plough your'e driving, Let me now a question ask, Tell the reason why you're striving Late and early at your task? Farmer. - 'Tis that I my work must finish, Ere the working season's o'er, And my barns I must replenish With my crops, and winter's store S. Farmer, if some cruel master, Should your footsteps now attend; Bid you toil, still on, and faster, Would you to his mandate bend? F. By this free right arm! no, never! I would hold to freedom still, Leave my home once and forever, Ere I'd bow beneath his will. S. - Farmer, if he strove to bind thee, And should bind thy brawny limbs? F. - If my hands would not defend me, They should never work for him. S. Then what think you of the slave, Toiling 'neath a broiling sun? His only rest is in the grave, Only then his task is done. F. - How can I help his condition? Could I, I would set him free. S. - Join the ranks of Abolition, Give your vote to Liberty. F. - Well, then, at the next election, I will try what I can do; Join your ranks without defection, Independent, Jersey Blue.