Uncle Sambo’s a gwine to be righted,
Uncle Sambo’s a gwine to be free,
And dey say dat dis darkey’s delighted
Becos you white folks can’t agree;
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow:—
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
O dey say dis Fremount proclamation
Hab kick up de best sort o’ fun,
But much as I lub ’mancipation,
I rader you two should stay one.
Mighty pleasant to vote wid our betters,
And pray wid white breddren but yet
I’d rader go back to my fetters
Dan see dis old Union upset.
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
I’d rader go back to plantation
And stick to de cotton and cane,
Dan dat Gin’ral Waxhington nation
Should all hab been built up in vain.
O dey wen de fightin’s all ober,
Nary slave will be left in de land,
But if dey fight on, by Jehober,
Dey’ll leave nary freemen on hand.
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
De last time I saw my old Massa
He’d just bid old Missus good bye,
His hand was right wet, for, I dar say,
He’d just brushed a tear from his eye:
One foot in his shiny steel stirrup,
One hand on de mane ob his Black,
He stammered out— “Boys, you must cheer up
Old Missus, if I don’t git back.”
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Old Missus, de last time I met her
Dat sight make me feel berry sore,
She leanin’ agin’ de Palmetter,
He gallopin on to de war:
She went in and watched by de windo’
As long as his hoss she could see,
Den turned, wid a strange larf, and kindo’
Staggered and came to her knee.
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Mayn’t Massa and Missus drop us here
Wen somebody settles dis war,
Mayn’t de banjo of dear old Virginier
Be as sweet to New York as before?
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober.
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow,
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He only a CONTRABAND now.
Uncle Sambo’s a gwine to be free,
And dey say dat dis darkey’s delighted
Becos you white folks can’t agree;
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow:—
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
O dey say dis Fremount proclamation
Hab kick up de best sort o’ fun,
But much as I lub ’mancipation,
I rader you two should stay one.
Mighty pleasant to vote wid our betters,
And pray wid white breddren but yet
I’d rader go back to my fetters
Dan see dis old Union upset.
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
I’d rader go back to plantation
And stick to de cotton and cane,
Dan dat Gin’ral Waxhington nation
Should all hab been built up in vain.
O dey wen de fightin’s all ober,
Nary slave will be left in de land,
But if dey fight on, by Jehober,
Dey’ll leave nary freemen on hand.
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
De last time I saw my old Massa
He’d just bid old Missus good bye,
His hand was right wet, for, I dar say,
He’d just brushed a tear from his eye:
One foot in his shiny steel stirrup,
One hand on de mane ob his Black,
He stammered out— “Boys, you must cheer up
Old Missus, if I don’t git back.”
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Old Missus, de last time I met her
Dat sight make me feel berry sore,
She leanin’ agin’ de Palmetter,
He gallopin on to de war:
She went in and watched by de windo’
As long as his hoss she could see,
Den turned, wid a strange larf, and kindo’
Staggered and came to her knee.
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober,
Yes sir!
Yes sir! Yes sir, ree! Yes sir, ree!
I don't see it! I don't see it!
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He’s only a Contraband now!
Mayn’t Massa and Missus drop us here
Wen somebody settles dis war,
Mayn’t de banjo of dear old Virginier
Be as sweet to New York as before?
O dey say dat dis darkey’s in clober.
But ’deed I don’t see it nohow,
Uncle Sambo’s best days are all ober,
He only a CONTRABAND now.
×
![]()
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.
