Prossers Gabriel

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Does anyone know the name Gabriel Prosser?

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My conscience says he’s the one that history missed.

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A blacksmith by trade up at Brookfield Plantation,

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A Henrico County slave born of owner Thomas.

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If you listen closely you’ll hear the words perfect,

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The Caribbean uprising caught fire in this land.

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Up and down the James River, Pamunky and Appomattox,

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Tobacco soil gone bad deferred a movement for the blacks.

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Nine years before, down in Santo Domingo,

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Slaves refused to submit and took the right of all men.

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Virginia whites got nervous and hired more militias,

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As blacks inspired, plotted and passed on their plans.

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Mister Prosser’s Gabriel was smart as he was strong,

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A head of keloid scars and a mind of knowing right and wrong.

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Voted general at twenty-four in the year of eighteen-hundred,

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Haunted by the hymns and wailing of his fellow slaves.

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Now does anyone know the name Gabriel Prosser?

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My conscience says he’s the one that history missed.

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A blacksmith by trade up at Brookfield Plantation,

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A Henrico County slave born of owner Thomas.

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It was on an August night just North of Richmond, Virginia,

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Gabriel’s men gathered as their owners they slept.

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Some would burn the Capital to distract residents and masters,

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While others took the city and freed the convicts.

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Well the whites they knew nothing, never seen what could hit ‘em,

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Nothing like this could happen to their carefree black men.

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But think about freedom, now think about slavery.

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Blacks armed themselves with muskets and homemade bayonets.

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With a white flag on the Capital, all blacks they would rise.

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All whites spared, would lose but an arm.

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You’re a coward if you own men for profit and greed,

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You’re the coward of all and for all you must bleed.

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Now does anyone know the name Gabriel Prosser?

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My conscience says he’s the one that history missed.

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A blacksmith by trade up at Brookfield Plantation,

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A Henrico County slave born of owner Thomas.

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Pharaoh and Tom ratted out Gabriel Prosser,

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Their owner was Mosby, and neighbor of him.

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They say the sky seemed seized with rain and lightning,

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On the night of August thirtieth one could see nor stand.

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The militias’ let loose to hunt Gabriel Prosser,

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Who took to the swamps as they imprisoned his men.

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Flagged a boat whose captain was a Methodist preacher,

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But a traitor slave turned him in in the end.

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They hung Gabriel down at Broad and 15th Street,


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Lord he would not give a word up on his men.

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But he took that noose and he took it with honor,

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He’s buried beneath a lot of parked cars, now, and pavement.

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There’s no monument, there’s no stone here to see him,

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Just black asphalt planked by high-rise hospital chains.

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If I had it my way we’d see memorials climbin',

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To a true and honest hero, Prosser’s Gabriel.

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Now does anyone know the name Gabriel Prosser?

G                                       D       G
My conscience says he’s the one that history missed.

G                               C          G
A blacksmith by trade up at Brookfield Plantation,

G                                D      G
A Henrico County slave born of owner Thomas.