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Updated: May 24, 2025
"When ye see a poo' man be sure to give him crumbsorum, Lord bress de Lamb glory hallelugerum! Lord bress de Lamb!" At the end of this interminable refrain, drawn out in a youthful nasal contralto, Fleming knocked. The girl instantly appeared, holding the ring in her fingers. "I reckoned it was you," she said, with an affected briskness, to conceal her evident dislike at parting with the trinket.
The first two lines had a brisk movement, accented apparently by the clapping of hands or the beating of a tin pan, but the refrain, "Lord bress de Lamb," was drawn out in a lugubrious chant of infinite tenuity. "The rich man died and he went straight to hellerum. Lord bress de Lamb glory hallelugerum! Lord bress de Lamb!" Fleming paused at the cabin door. Before he could rap the voice rose again:
As he approached the cabin again, he heard the sound of singing. It was evidently the girl's voice, uplifted in what seemed to be a fragment of some negro camp-meeting hymn: "Dar was a poor man and his name it was Lazarum, Lord bress de Lamb glory hallelugerum! Lord bress de Lamb!"
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