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Scott, Michael, 1789-1835

"Tom Cringle's Log"

I shook myself; but before I was
thoroughly awake, it ceased; it appeared to have been close under my
window.
I was turning to go to sleep again, when a female, in a small suppressed
voice, sung the following snatch of a vulgar Port Royal ditty, which I
scarcely forgive myself for introducing here to polite society.
"Young hofficer come home at night,
Him give me ring and kisses;
Nine months, one picaniny white,
Him white almost like missis.
But missis fum my back wid switch,
Him say de shild for massa;
But massa say him"

The singer broke off suddenly, as if disturbed by the approach of some
one.
"Hush, hush, you old foolish--" said a man's voice, in the same low
whispering tone; "you will waken de dronken sentry dere, when we shall
all be put in iron. Hush, he will know my voice more better."
It was now clear that some one wished to attract my attention; besides,
I had a dreamy recollection of having heard both the male and female
voices before. I listened, therefore, all alive. The man began to sing
in the same low tone.
"Newfoundland dog love him master de morest
Of all de dog ever I see;
Let him starve him, and kick him, and cuff him de sorest,
Difference none never makee to he."
There was a pause for a minute or two.
"It no use," the same voice continued; him either no dere, or he won't
hear us."
"Stop," said the female, "stop; woman head good for someting. I know who
he shall hear.


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