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