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Slave Narrative of William W. Watson

Do I remember slavery? Who could forget these lash prints on my back. Some time I set here and look at my wife and think Lord help me look what I live through. Me and my wife had a car wreck early last year, that made her lose her mind so she just sings all the time cant think. Raises chickens and talks like a baby. She is two years older than me, and too she is the mother of thirteen children, had lots of trouble. I am still able to find the cows and horses that belong to my son. My wife has the prettyest name, Betsy Ann Davis, then she was sold to Donivan, he called her Annier, but I still say Betsy Ann. My wife just weighed 120 pounds use to weigh one hundred. My mother belonged to the same master that my wife did ole man Davis, Master Tom we calls him. My mother was Eliza Davis, and my paw was Baker Watson. Father was brought from some place to W. Virginia and sold, I never learned the place. When they was bought they come to Tennessee. I do not know the place. Henry Watson owned my father, and Tom Davis owned my mother. Davis lived in Tennessee. Watson’s plantation joined Davis some place about ten miles below Palaska. They lived in the deep country. Master Davis’ children was named Simon, Susie, George, Minnie. Their house was made in a log, tee shape. The house I was born in was a one room mud log room in white folks, Davis yard. Boy I was, born...

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