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Passing by de church yard late, Like Guy wid box and matches,
Dey seize my coat, and cry aloud, «* Here is him body snatches !"
Anoder man advance a step, Him tought him very cibil,
Look in him face and say, "Ah ah ! Dis maesa is de debil."
When at half price to de play, Where dey mistake my fellow,
Dey say him smoder his poor wife, And call me black Otello.
But now him be emancipate,
Him feel how high him station,
Him get into de parliament, And represent de nation.
Him go just now where many go, Where plenty of good lush is,
For if dey look into him face, Dey cannot see him blushes.
Now all will own dis truth not found,
In comedy or farce is ; A face of copper's better far,
At any time, than brass is.