The Land Lord
Sam rose at dawn though there was no need
He owned the plantation now, with land
His dead father willed it with the deed
And Sam ran it with a heavy hand
The cotton could be seen for miles ‘round
Sturdy, healthy plants yielded much wealth
From dawn til dusk the slaves could be found
Toiling so hard with risk to their health
Like bees in a hive making honey
They stooped and picked to give him his life
A style that required lots of money
Freedom from work and financial strife
But at what price? He did now ponder
The slaves were dying at alarming rate
From heat, disease, so he would wonder
Abolition was the new debate
The slaves they said deserved to be free
From picking white gold for lords of land
And never live the life of a bee
Slavery seemed to them out of hand
Power and greed had made Sam so cold
He’d bought, sold and driven those poor slaves
To unfair deaths with stories untold
He could not justify all those graves
Sam was born it seemed, to just languish
With his money, he thought life was won
But now he understood their anguish
Men and women slaving in the sun
He’d beaten some, he admitted now
His father had done so too with glee
The sweat of guilt was upon his brow
Sam would sleep tonight then set them free
For the slaves were just people like him
And they deserved a much better life
Freedom from the pain and the lords’ whim
Chance for man to grow old with his wife
Those who stayed on would be treated fair
Sam knew he could right all he’d done wrong
Given time, he’d make them all aware
That free here with him was where they belong
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