For Our Fallen In The Already Famous South Carolina Church

Make no mistake about it. Paul Laurence Dunbar was an educated man. He wote this poem to memorialize our ancestora as they were. There are those of us who love them dearly, the way they
looked and lived and spoke and loved is dear to our hearts. We owe no apologies. For the only people who originally learned English from Americans, were those who came over from Africa.
And lest any ever forget what the sacrifice ever meant to individuals whose freedom should have been honored  at birth, without question, Abraham Lincoln didn't do any of what he did without black
soldiers. When African Americans who have recent roots in American slavery do go to the ballot
box, they are not doing so to honor any confederacy, or the likes of  John Roberts and his gang.


                                                 When Dey 'Listed Colored Soldiers
                                                                     by Paul Laurence Dunbar

                                     Dey was talkin' in de cabin, dey was talkin' in de hall;
                                     But I listened kin' o keerless, not a-tinkin' bout it all;
                                     An' on Sunday, too, I noticed, dey was whisp'rin mighty
                                         much,
                                     Stan'in all erroun' de roadside w'en dey let us out o'
                                        chu'ch.
                                     But I did n't t'ink erbout it twell de middle of de week
                                     An my 'Lias come to see me, an' somehow he could n't
                                        speak.
                                     Den I seed all in a minute whut he'd come to see me
                                        for;-
                                     Dey had 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias gwine to wah.

                                     Oh, I hugged him, an I kissed him, an' I baiged him
                                         not to go;
                                     But he tol' me dat his conscience, hit was callin' to him
                                         so
                                     An he could n't baih to lingah w'en he had a chanst
                                         to fight
                                     For de freedom dey had gin him an' de glory of de right.
                                     So he kissed me, an' he lef me, w'en I'd p'omised to
                                         be true;
                                     An dey put a knapsack on him, an' a coat all colo'ed
                                         blue.
                                     So I gin him pap's ol' Bible f'om de bottom of de
                                         draw',-
                                     W'en dey 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias went to wah.

                                     But I t'ought of all de weary miles dat he would have
                                          to tramp,
                                     An' I could n't be contented w'en dey tuk him to de
                                          camp.
                                     W'y my hea't nigh broke wid grievin' twell I seed him
                                          on de street;
                                     Den I felt lak I could go an' th'ow my body at his feet.
                                     For his buttons was a-shinin, an his face was shinin',
                                          too,
                                     An' he looked so strong an' mighty in his coat o' sojer
                                          blue.
                                     Dat I hollhed, 'Step up, manny," dough my th'oat was
                                          so' an' raw,-
                                     W'en dey listed colo'ed sojers an my 'Lias went to wah.

                                     Ol' Mis' cried w'en mastah lef' huh, young Miss mou'ned
                                          huh brothah Ned,
                                     An' I did n't know dey feelin's is de ve'y wo'ds dey said
                                     W'en I tol' 'em I was so'y. Dey had done gin up dey
                                          all;
                                     But dey only seemed mo' proudah dat dey men had
                                          hyeahed de call.
                                     Bofe my mastahs went in gray suits, an' I loved de Yan
                                          kee blue,
                                     But I t'ought dat I could sorrer for de losin' of 'em too;
                                     But I could n't, for I did n't know de haf o' what I
                                          saw,
                                     'Twell dey 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias went to wah.

                                      Mastah Jack come home all sickly; he he was broke for life
                                           dey said;
                                      An' dey lef my po' young mastah some'r's on de road-
                                           side, - dead.
                                      W'en de women cried an' mou'ned 'em, I could feel it
                                           thoo an' thoo,
                                      For I had a loved un fightin' in de way o' dangah, too.
                                      Den dey tol' me dey had laid him some'r's way down
                                           souf to res',
                                      Wid de flag dat he had fit for shinin' daih acrost his
                                           breas'.
                                      Well, I cried, but den I reckon dat's whut Gawd had
                                           called him for,
                                       W'en dey 'listed colo'ed sojers an' my 'Lias went to wah.