Seven Warts on Pa’s Belly

Ghosts with sentience down one stares shared
Slaves some turn some cold, cold stares
My new fear becomes clearer
The ghosts with cangue sleep so go near 'em

In my cell [?]
I got used to doggy meat
Seven warts on pa's belly
Made a knife with all my teeth
So don'tcha, don'tcha feel for me

Down with stares its ghost declares right
My fair slave repent on fear time
Fear the cangue, it's so-o worse, so
My new ghost-mate says he heard right

In my cell [?]
I got used to doggy meat
Seven warts on pa's belly
Made a knife with all my teeth
So don'tcha, don'tcha feel for me

Reckon my mate caused a down skin
Fair, pale, cangue skin so no down fear
Slaves all say "No!" down to stares, please
Now small ghost will—Don't show fear!

In my cell [?]
I got used to doggy meat
Seven warts on pa's belly
Made a knife with all my teeth

In my cell [?]
I got used to doggy meat
Seven warts on pa's belly
Made a knife with all my teeth
So don'tcha, don'tcha feel for me