I dreamt a dream at the midnight deep, br When fancies come and go br To vex a man in his soothing sleep br With thoughts of awful woe -- br I dreamed that I was the corner man br Of a nigger minstrel show. br I cracked my jokes, and the building rang br With laughter loud and long; br I hushed the house as I softly sang br An old plantation song -- br A tale of the wicked slavery days br Of cruelty and wrong. br br A small boy sat on the foremost seat -- br A mirthful youngster he, br He beat the time with his restless feet br To each new melody, br And he picked me out as the brightest star br Of the black fraternity. br br "Oh, father," he said, "what would we do br If the corner man should die? br I never saw such a man -- did you? br He makes the people cry, br And then, when he likes, he makes them laugh." br The old man made reply: br br "We each of us fill a very small space br On the great creation's plan, br If a man don't keep his lead in the race br There's plenty more that can; br The world can very soon fill the place br Of even a corner man." br br I woke with a jump, rejoiced to find br Myself at home in bed, br And I framed a moral in my mind br From the words the old man said. br The world will jog along just the same br When the corner men are dead.