Story Behind the Song
Despite the fact that it appears to chronicle the final phase of the War Between the States, "Kingdom Coming" was written early in 1862 and released on April 23 of that same year, following a week-long promotional blitz by its Chicago publishers, Root & Cady. Given its premier performance by Christy's Minstrels, the song was an overnight sensation. It was as well received by blacks as it was by whites and was said to have been sung by black troops as they marched into Richmond during the final days of the conflict.
Oddly enough, as the war ground down to its conclusion, the song became popular in the South as well and remained so for some years after Lee's surrender at Appomattox.
"Linkum" is Lincoln rendered in the minstrel-stage black dialect used by Work and others writing for the genre. The mention of massa's being tanned enough to pass for contraband refers to the U.S. Army's wartime policy of treating any blacks who made it to the safety of Union lines as the property the South claimed they were and "confiscating" them as contraband.
This song is also known as "The Year of Jubilo," a Biblical reference to the longed-for day on which all people will be set free.
Lyrics
Say, darkies, hab you seen de massa, wid de muffstash on his face,
Go long de road some time dis mornin', like he gwine to leab de place?
He seen a smoke way up de ribber, whar de Linkum gunboats lay;
He took his hat, and lef' berry sudden, and I spec' he's run away!
CHORUS: De massa run, ha, ha! De darkey stay, ho, ho!
It mus' be now de kindom coming, an' de year ob Jubilo!
He six foot one way, two foot tudder, and he weigh tree hundred pound,
His coat so big, he couldn't pay the tailor, an' it won't go halfway round.
He drill so much dey call him Cap'n, an' he got so drefful tanned,
I spec' he try an' fool dem Yankees for to tink he's contraband.
CHORUS
De darkeys feel so lonesome libbing in de loghouse on de lawn,
Dey move dar tings into massa's parlor for to keep it while he's gone.
Dar's wine an' cider in de kitchen, an' de darkeys dey'll have some;
I s'pose dey'll all be cornfiscated when de Linkum sojers come.
CHORUS
De obserseer he make us trouble, an' he dribe us round a spell;
We lock him up in de smokehouse cellar, wid de key trown in de well.
De whip is lost, de han'cuff broken, but de massa'll hab his pay;
He's ole enough, big enough, ought to known better dan to went an' run away.
CHORUS
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