Oh, Majesty! Comin', comin'! Tituba, he's here, His Majesty's come!
Sarah, wake up! Sarah Good!
That don't look to me like His Majesty; look to me like the marshal.
Go to the north cell; this place is wanted now.
Get along with you now, clear this place
We going' to Barbados, soon the Devil gits here with the feathers and the wings.
Oh, is it you, Marshal! I thought sure you be the devil comin' for us. Could I hace a sip of cider for me goin'-away?
And where are you off to, Sarah?
Oh? A happy voyage to you.
I'll speak t him for you, if you desires to some along, Marshal.
A pair of bluebirds wingin' southerly, the two of us! Oh, it be a grand transformation, Marshal!
it's the proper morning to fly into Hell.
You'd best give me that or you'll never rise off the ground. Come along now.
I'd not refuse it.
Oh, it be no Hell in Barbados. Devil, Him be Pleasure-man in Barbados, him be singin; and dancin' in Barbados. It's you folks-you riles him up 'round here; it be too cold 'round here for that Old Boy. He freeze his soul in Massachusetts, but in Barbados he just as aweet and ... Aye, sir! That's him, Sarah!