Tom Loker
Song & Chorus

Written by W. J. Wetmore, M.D.
Arranged and partly composed by Chs. E. Goddard
New York: Gould & Berry, 1852.

[From Uncle Tom's Cabin,
Performed with immense success by all the Minstrel Bands.
]

[EPIGRAPH:]
  "Yes I see 'em go up right here," said Tom; "and here's a path. I'm for going right up. They can't jump down in a hurry, and it won't take long to ferret 'em out." * * * *
  "I say, fellers," said Marks, "you jist go round and pick up Tom, there, while I run and get on to my horse, to go back for help,--that's you;" and without minding the hootings and jeers of his company, Marks was as good as his word, and was soon seen galloping away.
Uncle Tom's Cabin Pages 282 & 286.


Courtesy Sheet Music Collection
BROWN UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

      THE MUSIC FOR THIS SONG
        IS AVAILABLE AT BROWN'S
AFRICAN-AMERICAN SHEET MUSIC   1850-1920
--
      AN EXHIBIT AT THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS'
        AMERICAN MEMORY ARCHIVE
[TEXT]

Come, let us fly, the foe is near,
The hounds are on our track.
With foot as nimble as the deer,
We'll on and not look back.
Prepare now for each varying scene,
Make ready for the flight;
With rifle true and sabre keen,
Resolve to guard the right.

[CHORUS]
Hurrah! let us fly then
Hurrah, how mount the waggon
Off's the word
Off's the word says Quaker Joker:
We'll fight . . . while we've a rag on,
Who's afraid . . . of bluff Tom Loker?
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

2d. Verse.
Say why should we still longer dwell,
Where friends we never see
Where vainly do our bosoms swell,
Yet struggling to be free:
Now we have nothing here to hope,
But ev'ry thing to fear.
The cutting lash, the hangman's rope
And sorrow's scalding tear.

3.
See, see they come -- they're drawing nigh,
Hear, hear the shouting knaves;
We'll never yield but rather die,
Still scorning to be slaves:
Here, here they come -- a shot -- and down,
Tom Loker falls a prey;
Like Santa Anna overthrown,
Marks, frighten'd runs away.

4.
Off, off they go -- the coward knaves --
See, see they fly -- we're free;
We never will return as slaves,
Where not but chains we see.
Oh! what is life and honor worth,
Say what has man to boast;
When Freedom, Virtue, Peace on earth
Are all forever lost!

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