Song and chorus.

Arr. by J. Young, Esq.

1

Oh my name is Darkey Sam,
And I’se a black-eyed contraband;
  Down on de Chickahominee I was born;
But old massa run away,
When de Linkum sogers play: 
  So, I started for de Norf in de morn.... 
I soon met wid a man,
And he took me by de hand,
  And he brought me to de Bobolition meetin: 
Dar de brudders made a speech,
And de sisters ’gan to preach;
  Dey said dat my complexion was light,
And de world dey would teach
What a point dey could reach,
  And dey’d show dat dey could wash de nigger white.

Chorus.

    I soon met wid a man,
    And he took me by de hand,
      And he brought me to de Bobolition meetin: 
    Dar de brudders made a speech,
    And de sisters ’gan to preach: 
      Dey said dey could wash de nigger white.

2

Dey got me very soon,
And dey put me in a room: 
  Dis nigger couldn’t tell what dey was after;
Dey took off all my clothes,
And den what does you suppose? 
  Dey put me in a tub of boilin’ water! 
And den dey got around,
And some scrubbin’-brushes found,
  And said dey’d wash me whiter dan paper. 
Oh! dey got me in a tub,
And dey all began to rub: 
  I tell you it was a pretty sight! 
For, some put on de soap. 
And de oders dey did scrub,
  But dey found dey couldn’t wash de nigger white.

3

De next thing dey done
For to make de color run,
  Dey began to rub me wid sand paper: 
Oh! dey nearly killed me dead,
But dey only made me red: 
  I tell you it was an awful caper! 
Den dey whitewashed me so slick,
But de lime it wouldn’t stick: 
  I, golly!  I was just as black as ever! 
Den dey got a lot of hay,
And dey rubbed and scrubbed away: 
  Oh! dey kept at it all dat night;
But den dey found, next day,
Dat de job it wouldn’t pay,
  ’Kase dey neber could wash de nigger white.

4

When I found dat dey was tired,
Says I:  Gemmen list to me,
  And you will find dat I am a right, man;
De nigger will be nigger,
Till de day of Jubilee;
  For, he nebber was intended for a white man;
Den just skedaddle home,
Leave de colored man alone;
  For, you’re only makin trouble in de nation;
You may fight, and you may muss,
You may make a heap of fuss,
  But you nebber will make tings right,
Until you all agree
For to let de nigger be: 
  ’Kase you’ll neber, neber, neber wash him white.