Natives long lost gone.
Whiskey built a house of fire
Black man work at dawn.
Changing hands with Typhoid’s grip
A daughter takes a man.
Who goes to field and with a whip
He chooses one light tan.
To house is brought for children’s care
And midnight lustful deeds.
Sweet Chloe goes without a dare
Her master’s wants she heeds.
But curious as cat’s black tail
Her ear does press the door.
Voices. Secrets. All are male.
Found out and called a whore.
Punishment is swift and steel
And leaves a blood red scar.
The birds will never call or heal
As she is sent field far.
While there among the rain and hoe
Her turban set too high.
A friend not found in ditch or row
She must go back or die.
A cake to bake for master’s kin
With poison for to nurse.
She weighed the leaf against the sin
Instead she brought the hearse.
Hung real slow so as she dies
Her body stretched and shed.
Three days passed for stink and flies
Just to make sure she dead.
Weighed with rocks and sent to sink
The river was her flight.
Sweet Chloe gave one last wink
And walks the ground at night.
St. Francisville, La
* The story of the slave Chloe is one of many stories surrounding the history of this historic Plantation.