2900
Solomon Northrup was 12 years a slave
Yet he knew the freedom of his soul to save
He could not fall into deep despair
He must stay alive his family is still there.
No matter his freedom money
No matter his fiddle play
His black hide captured
Brought more profit any day.
He was reduced to his core made to beg and plea
He had to keep his mind high to set himself free
First white man he trusted had him lying whole cloth
He didn’t label so second white man got him north.
Eliza and Patsey knew a much different fate
Like sisters today they had much on their plate
Eliza wailed loss of child like we defer dreams
Patsey fainted, false hope of a friend it seems.
No matter her picking cotton
No matter her raped loins
By those men forgotten
Her worth a few mere coins.
Solomon still loved his family in a far distant place
Had to leave again on tour to help save his race
He tried best he could to rise above his past fate
Yet in the quiet of the night saw only Patsey’s face.
His old haunts of freedom
Often called out to him
But now all was different
Fiddling another hymn.
His soul longed for Patsey for another 12 years
He fought for justice but mostly against fear
The day came for freedom it was now 1865
He had to return south in hope Patsey was alive.
The freemen saw Solomon they rejoiced and sang
There was so much to share and so glad he came
Epps died from Patsey obsession, wife by his side
She died of shock when the slaves would not hide.
They took him to Patsey
Down by the creek
She was buried there
Under the old oak tree
The original queen
Reduced to pick cotton
Her indomitable spirit
Never forgotten.
As much as he wanted the worst to escape
Solomon found greatness in the ugliest place
He had continued his life course fulfilled all his plans
And now can lie down by the creek Man & WOEman.
************************************************************
From WOEman to WHOAman to WOMAN!!!
