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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447998" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Eutawville Lynching</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(July, 1904)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In the State of 'Old Palmetto,' from the town of Eutawville,<br>Comes a voice of pain and anguish that refuses to be still.<br>'Tis a voice that cries for vengeance for the wrongs it has received, <br>Yea, it asks a nation's conscience, When will justice be achieved?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas a Negro and four white men that a fishing-party made,<br>In this party all the basis of a tragedy was laid,<br>One of them began a quarrel with the Negro of the crowd,<br>Told him not to think of justice, for to him 'twas disallowed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then they all began to curse him, in a shameful way to see,<br>Till the Negro said, 'I'll spank you, if you do not let me be!'<br>For this threat he was arrested, and for trial was arraigned,<br>And it goes without the saying, it was by the white man gained.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So Kitt Bookard there was sentenced, for that was the Negro's name,<br>To a fine of just five dollars, and condemned with all the blame.<br>When the fine he could not furnish, in the guard-house he was placed,<br>There in safety for the lynchers, who that night the town disgraced.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With the constable to help them and the marshall of the town,<br>Went the wicked fishing-party to the guard-house, with a frown;<br>They procured a bar of iron, gagged and tied Kitt Bookard fast,<br>And they took him in a buggy to the river, for the last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Say your prayers,' the lynchers told him, 'for to Jordan you have come,<br>Be in haste, for hour of midnight brings you to your final home.'<br>'If you'll spare me,' said Kitt Bookard, 'I will be your slave for life.'<br>'Speak no more,' the mob retorted, 'with your blood will end the strife.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was clubbed and mutilated, then the fiends put out his eye—<br>Any mob of heathen darkness would such shameful deeds decry—<br>Then with weights about his body, in the river he was cast,<br>Where his blood cried out for vengeance till a week and more had passed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bookard's family was anxious to procure him his release,<br>Through the night his wife was restless, and from worry could not cease.<br>At the dawn his brother hastened, 'I will pay the fine,' he said,<br>But he found the guard-house empty and as quiet as the dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quick a search was instituted, all the Negroes,round about,<br>Volunteered into the service, bound to clear the place of doubt.<br>In the night a rain had fallen and no stirring round was done,<br>Save a buggy-track was leading from the guard-house—only one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hurriedly the track was followed to the Santee River's brink,<br>And a dredging was decided when the Negroes came to think.<br>On the ninth day thus they found him in the silent river's bed,<br>Weighted with a bar of iron, mutilated, bruised and dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the coroner was summoned and an inquest was begun,<br>'Twas revealed in all its horrors, how the deed of shame was done,<br>'Twas a tale of barbarism that the press refused to tell,<br>How the mob with hellish fury did the work of demons well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the mob was found a witness, when the fiends were brought to court,<br>Who exposed the shocking lynching in a clear and full report,<br>All the details of the quarrel, and the fine Kitt was to pay,<br>Of his death in Santee River long before the dawn of day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the jury left the court-room, just for fourteen minutes' time,<br>And returned to bring the verdict that would free the sons of crime,<br>'We pronounce the men not guilty,' said the foreman of the crew,—<br>When the facts are given credance, this was thunder from the blue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now that mob unwhipped of justice, poses as the country's best,<br>Why, it only killed a Negro! let such matters have a rest!<br>Hark! we hear in half the country, 'Keep the Negro in his place,<br>Violence we measure to him as a warning to his race.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To this day the blood of Bookard cries for vengeance, loud and long,<br>And the wailing reaches heaven, fills the ear that hates the wrong.<br>So the same can never triumph—punishment for sin is sure,<br>'Tis God's world, and not the devil's; wrong enthroned is insecure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While we feel that God is living, we our patience strive to keep,<br>Still the question comes with power, O, how long will justice sleep?<br>Those who die the death of Bookard, some sweet day revenge will find.<br>Nature's God reveals the secret, wrong is punished by its kind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lizelia+Augusta+Jenkins+Moorer">Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447998" data-title="The Eutawville Lynching de Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer" data-description="(July, 1904)


In the State of 'Old Palmetto,' from the town of Eutawville,
Comes a voice of pain and anguish that refuses to be still.
'Tis a voice that cries for vengeance for the wrongs it has received, 
Yea, it asks a nation's conscience, When..."></div>
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