Not any spot six feet by two
Will hold a man like thee;
John Brown will tramp the shaking earth,
From Blue Ridge to the sea,
Till the strong angel comes at last,
And opes each dungeon door,
And God's "Great Charter" holds and waves
O'er all his humble poor.
And then the humble poor will come,
In that far-distant day,
And from the felon's nameless grave
They'll brush the leaves away;
And gray old men will point the spot
Beneath the pine-tree shade,
As children ask with streaming eyes
Where "Old John Brown" is laid.