OMAR

Some men enjoy the constant strifeOf days with work and worry rife,But that is not my dream of life:I think such men are crazy.For me, a life with worries few,A job of nothing much to do,Just pelf enough to see me through:I fear that I am lazy.On winter mornings cold and drear,When six o'clock alarms I hear,'Tis then I love to shift my ear,And hug my downy pillows.When in the shade it's ninety-three,No job in town looks good to me,I'd rather loaf down by the sea,And watch the foaming billows.Some people think the world's a school,Where labor is the only rule;But I'll not make myself a mule,And don't you ever doubt it.I know that work may have its use,But still I feel that's no excuseFor turning it into abuse;What doyouthink about it?Let others fume and sweat and boil,And scratch and dig for golden spoil,And live the life of work and toil,Their lives to labor giving.But what is gold when life is sped,And life is short, as has been said,And we are such a long time dead,I'll spend my life in living.

On winter mornings cold and drear,When six o'clock alarms I hear,'Tis then I love to shift my ear,And hug my downy pillows.When in the shade it's ninety-three,No job in town looks good to me,I'd rather loaf down by the sea,And watch the foaming billows.

Some people think the world's a school,Where labor is the only rule;But I'll not make myself a mule,And don't you ever doubt it.I know that work may have its use,But still I feel that's no excuseFor turning it into abuse;What doyouthink about it?

Let others fume and sweat and boil,And scratch and dig for golden spoil,And live the life of work and toil,Their lives to labor giving.But what is gold when life is sped,And life is short, as has been said,And we are such a long time dead,I'll spend my life in living.

Old Omar, jolly sceptic, it may beThat, after all, you found the magic keyTo life and all its mystery, and IMust own you have almost persuaded me.

Are you bowed down in heart?Do you but hear the clashing discords and the din of life?Then come away, come to the peaceful wood,Here bathe your soul in silence. Listen! Now,From out the palpitating solitudeDo you not catch, yet faint, elusive strains?They are above, around, within you, everywhere.Silently listen! Clear, and still more clear, they come.They bubble up in rippling notes, and swell in singing tones.Now let your soul run the whole gamut of the wondrous scaleUntil, responsive to the tonic chord,It touches the diapason of God's grand cathedral organ,Filling earth for you with heavenly peaceAnd holy harmonies.

To chase a never-reached mirageAcross the hot, white sand,And choke and die, while gazing onIts green and watered strand.

"She's built of steelFrom deck to keel,And bolted strong and tight;In scorn she'll sailThe fiercest gale,And pierce the darkest night."The builder's artHas proved each partThroughout her breadth and length;Deep in the hulk,Of her mighty bulk,Ten thousand Titans' strength."The tempest howls,The Ice Wolf prowls,The winds they shift and veer,But calm I sleep,And faith I keepIn the word of an engineer.Along the trailOf the slender railThe train, like a nightmare, fliesAnd dashes onThrough the black-mouthed yawnWhere the cavernous tunnel lies.Over the ridge,Across the bridge,Swung twixt the sky and hell,On an iron threadSpun from the headOf the man in a draughtsman's cell.And so we rideOver land and tide,Without a thought of fear—Man never hadThe faith in GodThat he has in an engineer!

"She's built of steelFrom deck to keel,And bolted strong and tight;In scorn she'll sailThe fiercest gale,And pierce the darkest night.

"The builder's artHas proved each partThroughout her breadth and length;Deep in the hulk,Of her mighty bulk,Ten thousand Titans' strength."

The tempest howls,The Ice Wolf prowls,The winds they shift and veer,But calm I sleep,And faith I keepIn the word of an engineer.

Along the trailOf the slender railThe train, like a nightmare, fliesAnd dashes onThrough the black-mouthed yawnWhere the cavernous tunnel lies.

Over the ridge,Across the bridge,Swung twixt the sky and hell,On an iron threadSpun from the headOf the man in a draughtsman's cell.

And so we rideOver land and tide,Without a thought of fear—Man never hadThe faith in GodThat he has in an engineer!

Out of the infinite sea of eternityTo climb, and for an instant standUpon an island speck of time.From the impassible peace of the darknessTo wake, and blink at the garish lightThrough one short hour of fretfulness.

Out of the infinite sea of eternityTo climb, and for an instant standUpon an island speck of time.

From the impassible peace of the darknessTo wake, and blink at the garish lightThrough one short hour of fretfulness.

O Sleep, thou kindest minister to man,Silent distiller of the balm of rest,How wonderful thy power, when naught else can,To soothe the torn and sorrow-laden breast!When bleeding hearts no comforter can find,When burdened souls droop under weight of woe,When thought is torture to the troubled mind,When grief-relieving tears refuse to flow;'Tis then thou comest on soft-beating wings,And sweet oblivion's peace from them is shed;But ah, the old pain that the waking brings!That lives again so soon as thou art fled!Man, why should thought of death cause thee to weep;Since death be but an endless, dreamless sleep?

Man, why should thought of death cause thee to weep;Since death be but an endless, dreamless sleep?

O mighty, powerful, dark-dispelling sun,Now thou art risen, and thy day begun.How shrink the shrouding mists before thy face,As up thou spring'st to thy diurnal race!How darkness chases darkness to the west,As shades of light on light rise radiant from thy crest!For thee, great source of strength, emblem of might,In hours of darkest gloom there is no night.Thou shinest on though clouds hide thee from sight,And through each break thou sendest down thy light.O greater Maker of this Thy great sun,Give me the strength this one day's race to run,Fill me with light, fill me with sun-like strength,Fill me with joy to rob the day its length.Light from within, light that will outward shine,Strength to make strong some weaker heart than mine,Joy to make glad each soul that feels its touch;Great Father of the sun, I ask this much.

O greater Maker of this Thy great sun,Give me the strength this one day's race to run,Fill me with light, fill me with sun-like strength,Fill me with joy to rob the day its length.Light from within, light that will outward shine,Strength to make strong some weaker heart than mine,Joy to make glad each soul that feels its touch;Great Father of the sun, I ask this much.

Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,And blackening clouds about me cling;But, oh, I have a magic wayTo turn the gloom to cheerful day—I softly sing.And if the way grows darker still,Shadowed by Sorrow's somber wing,With glad defiance in my throat,I pierce the darkness with a note,And sing, and sing.I brood not over the broken past,Nor dread whatever time may bring;No nights are dark, no days are long,While in my heart there swells a song,And I can sing.

Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,And blackening clouds about me cling;But, oh, I have a magic wayTo turn the gloom to cheerful day—I softly sing.

And if the way grows darker still,Shadowed by Sorrow's somber wing,With glad defiance in my throat,I pierce the darkness with a note,And sing, and sing.

I brood not over the broken past,Nor dread whatever time may bring;No nights are dark, no days are long,While in my heart there swells a song,And I can sing.

When morning shows her first faint flush,I think of the tender blushThat crept so gently to your cheekWhen first my love I dared to speak;How, in your glance, a dawning rayGave promise of love's perfect day.When, in the ardent breath of noon,The roses with passion swoon;There steals upon me from the airThe scent that lurked within your hair;I touch your hand, I clasp your form—Again your lips are close and warm.When comes the night with beauteous skies,I think of your tear-dimmed eyes,Their mute entreaty that I stay,Although your lips sent me away;And then falls memory's bitter blight,And dark—so dark becomes the night.

When, in the ardent breath of noon,The roses with passion swoon;There steals upon me from the airThe scent that lurked within your hair;I touch your hand, I clasp your form—Again your lips are close and warm.

When comes the night with beauteous skies,I think of your tear-dimmed eyes,Their mute entreaty that I stay,Although your lips sent me away;And then falls memory's bitter blight,And dark—so dark becomes the night.

Her eyes, twin pools of mystic light,The blend of star-sheen and black night;O'er which, to sound their glamouring haze,A man might bend, and vainly gaze.Her eyes, twin pools so dark and deep,In which life's ancient mysteries sleep;Wherein, to seek the quested goal,A man might plunge, and lose his soul.

Her eyes, twin pools of mystic light,The blend of star-sheen and black night;O'er which, to sound their glamouring haze,A man might bend, and vainly gaze.

Her eyes, twin pools so dark and deep,In which life's ancient mysteries sleep;Wherein, to seek the quested goal,A man might plunge, and lose his soul.

I dreamed that I was a roseThat grew beside a lonely way,Close by a path none ever chose,And there I lingered day by day.Beneath the sunshine and the show'rI grew and waited there apart,Gathering perfume hour by hour,And storing it within my heart,Yet, never knew,Just why I waited there and grew.I dreamed that you were a beeThat one day gaily flew along,You came across the hedge to me,And sang a soft, love-burdened song.You brushed my petals with a kiss,I woke to gladness with a start,And yielded up to you in blissThe treasured fragrance of my heart;And then I knewThat I had waited there for you.

I dreamed that you were a beeThat one day gaily flew along,You came across the hedge to me,And sang a soft, love-burdened song.You brushed my petals with a kiss,I woke to gladness with a start,And yielded up to you in blissThe treasured fragrance of my heart;And then I knewThat I had waited there for you.

When buffeted and beaten by life's storms,When by the bitter cares of life oppressed,I want no surer haven than your arms,I want no sweeter heaven than your breast.When over my life's way there falls the blightOf sunless days, and nights of starless skies;Enough for me, the calm and steadfast lightThat softly shines within your loving eyes.The world, for me, and all the world can holdIs circled by your arms; for me there lies,Within the lights and shadows of your eyes,The only beauty that is never old.

When buffeted and beaten by life's storms,When by the bitter cares of life oppressed,I want no surer haven than your arms,I want no sweeter heaven than your breast.

When over my life's way there falls the blightOf sunless days, and nights of starless skies;Enough for me, the calm and steadfast lightThat softly shines within your loving eyes.

The world, for me, and all the world can holdIs circled by your arms; for me there lies,Within the lights and shadows of your eyes,The only beauty that is never old.

'Twas at early morning,The dawn was blushing in her purple bed,When in a sweet, embowered gardenShe, the fairest of the goddesses,The lovely Venus,Roamed amongst the roses white and red.She sought for flowersTo make a garlandFor her golden head.Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,In that sweet garden close,Offered incense to the goddess:Both the white and the crimson rose.White roses, red roses, blossoming:But the fair Venus knewThe crimson roses had gained their hueFrom the hearts that for love had bled;And the goddess made a garlandGathered from the roses red.

Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,In that sweet garden close,Offered incense to the goddess:Both the white and the crimson rose.

White roses, red roses, blossoming:But the fair Venus knewThe crimson roses had gained their hueFrom the hearts that for love had bled;And the goddess made a garlandGathered from the roses red.

I sometimes take you in my dreams to a far-off land I used to know,Back in the ages long ago; a land of palms and languid streams.A land, by night, of jeweled skies, by day, of shores that glistened bright,Within whose arms, outstretched and white, a sapphire sea lay crescent-wise.Where twilight fell like silver floss, where rose the golden moon half-hidBehind a shadowy pyramid; a land beneath the Southern Cross.And there the days dreamed in their flight, each one a poem chanted through,Which at its close was merged into the muted music of the night.And you were a princess in those days. And I—I was your serving lad.But who ever served with heart so glad, or lived so for a word of praise?And if that word you chanced to speak, how all my senses swayed and reeled,Till low beside your feet I kneeled, with happiness o'erwrought and weak.If, when your golden cup I bore, you deigned to lower your eyes to mine,Eyes cold, yet fervid, like the wine, I knew not how to wish for more.I trembled at the thought to dare to gaze upon, to scrutinizeThe deep-sea mystery of your eyes, the sun-lit splendor of your hair.To let my timid glances rest upon you long enough to noteHow fair and slender was your throat, how white the promise of your breast.But though I did not dare to chance a lingering look, an open gazeUpon your beauty's blinding rays, I ventured many a stolen glance.I fancy, too, (but could not state what trick of mind the fancy caused)At times your eyes upon me paused, and marked my figure lithe and straight.Once when my eyes met yours it seemed that in your cheek, despite your pride,A flush arose and swiftly died; or was it something that I dreamed?Within your radiance like the star of morning, there I stood and served,Close by, unheeded, unobserved. You were so near, and, yet, so far.Ah! just to stretch my hand and touch the musky sandals on your feet!—My breaking heart! of rapture sweet it never could have held so much.Oh, beauty-haunted memory! Your face so proud, your eyes so calm,Your body like a slim young palm, and sinuous as a willow tree.Caught up beneath your slender arms, and girdled 'round your supple waist,A robe of curious silk that graced, but only scarce concealed your charms.A golden band about your head, a crimson jewel at your throatWhich, when the sunlight on it smote, turned to a living heart and bled.But, oh, that mystic bleeding stone, that work of Nature's magic art,Which mimicked so a wounded heart, could never bleed as did my own!Now after ages long and sad, in this stern land we meet anew;No more a princess proud are you, and I—I am no serving lad.And yet, dividing us, I meet a wider gulf than that which stoodBetween a princess of the blood and him who served low at her feet.

I sometimes take you in my dreams to a far-off land I used to know,Back in the ages long ago; a land of palms and languid streams.

A land, by night, of jeweled skies, by day, of shores that glistened bright,Within whose arms, outstretched and white, a sapphire sea lay crescent-wise.

Where twilight fell like silver floss, where rose the golden moon half-hidBehind a shadowy pyramid; a land beneath the Southern Cross.

And there the days dreamed in their flight, each one a poem chanted through,Which at its close was merged into the muted music of the night.

And you were a princess in those days. And I—I was your serving lad.But who ever served with heart so glad, or lived so for a word of praise?

And if that word you chanced to speak, how all my senses swayed and reeled,Till low beside your feet I kneeled, with happiness o'erwrought and weak.

If, when your golden cup I bore, you deigned to lower your eyes to mine,Eyes cold, yet fervid, like the wine, I knew not how to wish for more.

I trembled at the thought to dare to gaze upon, to scrutinizeThe deep-sea mystery of your eyes, the sun-lit splendor of your hair.

To let my timid glances rest upon you long enough to noteHow fair and slender was your throat, how white the promise of your breast.

But though I did not dare to chance a lingering look, an open gazeUpon your beauty's blinding rays, I ventured many a stolen glance.

I fancy, too, (but could not state what trick of mind the fancy caused)At times your eyes upon me paused, and marked my figure lithe and straight.

Once when my eyes met yours it seemed that in your cheek, despite your pride,A flush arose and swiftly died; or was it something that I dreamed?

Within your radiance like the star of morning, there I stood and served,Close by, unheeded, unobserved. You were so near, and, yet, so far.

Ah! just to stretch my hand and touch the musky sandals on your feet!—My breaking heart! of rapture sweet it never could have held so much.

Oh, beauty-haunted memory! Your face so proud, your eyes so calm,Your body like a slim young palm, and sinuous as a willow tree.

Caught up beneath your slender arms, and girdled 'round your supple waist,A robe of curious silk that graced, but only scarce concealed your charms.

A golden band about your head, a crimson jewel at your throatWhich, when the sunlight on it smote, turned to a living heart and bled.

But, oh, that mystic bleeding stone, that work of Nature's magic art,Which mimicked so a wounded heart, could never bleed as did my own!

Now after ages long and sad, in this stern land we meet anew;No more a princess proud are you, and I—I am no serving lad.

And yet, dividing us, I meet a wider gulf than that which stoodBetween a princess of the blood and him who served low at her feet.

No greater earthly boon than this I crave,That those who some day gather 'round my grave,In place of tears, may whisper of me then,"He sang a song that reached the hearts of men."

Seems lak to me de stars don't shine so bright,Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light,Seems lak to me der's nothin' goin' right,Sence you went away.Seems lak to me de sky ain't half so blue,Seems lak to me dat ev'ything wants you,Seems lak to me I don't know what to do,Sence you went away.Seems lak to me dat ev'ything is wrong,Seems lak to me de day's jes twice as long,Seems lak to me de bird's forgot his song,Sence you went away.Seems lak to me I jes can't he'p but sigh,Seems lak to me ma th'oat keeps gittin' dry,Seems lak to me a tear stays in ma eye,Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me de stars don't shine so bright,Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light,Seems lak to me der's nothin' goin' right,Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me de sky ain't half so blue,Seems lak to me dat ev'ything wants you,Seems lak to me I don't know what to do,Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me dat ev'ything is wrong,Seems lak to me de day's jes twice as long,Seems lak to me de bird's forgot his song,Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me I jes can't he'p but sigh,Seems lak to me ma th'oat keeps gittin' dry,Seems lak to me a tear stays in ma eye,Sence you went away.

Breeze a-sighin' and a-blowin',Southern summer night.Stars a-gleamin' and a-glowin',Moon jes shinin' right.Strollin', like all lovers do,Down de lane wid Lindy Lou;Honey on her lips to waste;'Speck I'm gwine to steal a taste.Oh, ma lady's lips am like de honey,Ma lady's lips am like de rose;An' I'm jes like de little bee a-buzzin''Round de flower wha' de nectah grows.Ma lady's lips dey smile so temptin',Ma lady's teeth so white dey shine,Oh, ma lady's lips so tantalizin',Ma lady's lips so close to mine.Bird a-whistlin' and a-swayin'In de live-oak tree;Seems to me he keeps a-sayin',"Kiss dat gal fo' me."Look heah, Mister Mockin' Bird,Gwine to take you at yo' word;If I meets ma Waterloo,Gwine to blame it all on you.Oh, ma lady's lips am like de honey,Ma lady's lips am like de rose;An' I'm jes like de little bee a-buzzin''Round de flower wha' de nectah grows.Ma lady's lips dey smile so temptin',Ma lady's teeth so white dey shine,Oh, ma lady's lips so tantalizin',Ma lady's lips so close to mine.Honey in de rose, I spose, isPut der fo' de bee;Honey on her lips, I knows, isPut der jes fo' me.Seen a sparkle in her eye,Heard her heave a little sigh;Felt her kinder squeeze ma han','Nuff to make me understan'.

Oh, ma lady's lips am like de honey,Ma lady's lips am like de rose;An' I'm jes like de little bee a-buzzin''Round de flower wha' de nectah grows.Ma lady's lips dey smile so temptin',Ma lady's teeth so white dey shine,Oh, ma lady's lips so tantalizin',Ma lady's lips so close to mine.

Bird a-whistlin' and a-swayin'In de live-oak tree;Seems to me he keeps a-sayin',"Kiss dat gal fo' me."Look heah, Mister Mockin' Bird,Gwine to take you at yo' word;If I meets ma Waterloo,Gwine to blame it all on you.

Honey in de rose, I spose, isPut der fo' de bee;Honey on her lips, I knows, isPut der jes fo' me.Seen a sparkle in her eye,Heard her heave a little sigh;Felt her kinder squeeze ma han','Nuff to make me understan'.

Look heah, Tunk!—Now, ain't dis awful! T'ought I sont you off to school.Don't you know dat you is growin' up to be a reg'lah fool?Whah's dem books dat I's done bought you? Look heah, boy, you tell me quick,Whah's dat Webster blue-back spellah an' dat bran' new 'rifmatic?W'ile I'm t'inkin' you is lahnin' in de school, why bless ma soul!You off in de woods a-playin'. Can't you do like you is tole?Boy, I tell you, it's jes scan'lous d'way dat you is goin' on.An' you sholy go'n be sorry, jes as true as you is bo'n.Heah I'm tryin' hard to raise you as a credit to dis race,An' you tryin' heap much harder fu' to come up in disgrace.Dese de days w'en men don't git up to de top by hooks an' crooks;Tell you now, dey's got to git der standin' on a pile o' books.W'en you sees a darkey goin' to de fiel' as soon as light,Followin' a mule across it f'om de mawnin' tel de night,Wukin' all his life fu' vittles, hoein' 'tween de cott'n rows,W'en he knocks off ole an' tiah'd, ownin' nut'n but his clo'es,You kin put it down to ignunce, aftah all what's done an' said,You kin bet dat dat same darkey ain't got nut'n in his head.Ain't you seed dem w'ite men set'n in der awfice? Don't you knowDey goes der 'bout nine each mawnin? Bless yo' soul, dey's out by fo'.Dey jes does a little writin'; does dat by some easy means;Gals jes set an' play piannah on dem printin' press muchines.Chile, dem men knows how to figgah, how to use dat little pen,An' dey knows dat blue-back spellah f'om beginnin' to de en'.Dat's de 'fect of education; dat's de t'ing what's gwine to rule;Git dem books, you lazy rascal! Git back to yo' place in school!

Look heah, Tunk!—Now, ain't dis awful! T'ought I sont you off to school.Don't you know dat you is growin' up to be a reg'lah fool?

Whah's dem books dat I's done bought you? Look heah, boy, you tell me quick,Whah's dat Webster blue-back spellah an' dat bran' new 'rifmatic?

W'ile I'm t'inkin' you is lahnin' in de school, why bless ma soul!You off in de woods a-playin'. Can't you do like you is tole?

Boy, I tell you, it's jes scan'lous d'way dat you is goin' on.An' you sholy go'n be sorry, jes as true as you is bo'n.

Heah I'm tryin' hard to raise you as a credit to dis race,An' you tryin' heap much harder fu' to come up in disgrace.

Dese de days w'en men don't git up to de top by hooks an' crooks;Tell you now, dey's got to git der standin' on a pile o' books.

W'en you sees a darkey goin' to de fiel' as soon as light,Followin' a mule across it f'om de mawnin' tel de night,

Wukin' all his life fu' vittles, hoein' 'tween de cott'n rows,W'en he knocks off ole an' tiah'd, ownin' nut'n but his clo'es,

You kin put it down to ignunce, aftah all what's done an' said,You kin bet dat dat same darkey ain't got nut'n in his head.

Ain't you seed dem w'ite men set'n in der awfice? Don't you knowDey goes der 'bout nine each mawnin? Bless yo' soul, dey's out by fo'.

Dey jes does a little writin'; does dat by some easy means;Gals jes set an' play piannah on dem printin' press muchines.

Chile, dem men knows how to figgah, how to use dat little pen,An' dey knows dat blue-back spellah f'om beginnin' to de en'.

Dat's de 'fect of education; dat's de t'ing what's gwine to rule;Git dem books, you lazy rascal! Git back to yo' place in school!

De river is a-glistenin' in de moonlight,De owl is set'n high up in de tree;De little stars am twinklin' wid a sof' light,De night seems only jes fu' you an' me.Thoo de trees de breezes am a-sighin',Breathin' out a sort o' lover's croon,Der's nobody lookin' or a-spyin',Nobody but de owl an' de moon.Nobody's lookin' but de owl an' de moon,An' de night is balmy; fu' de month is June;Come den, Honey, won't you? Come to meet me soon,Wile nobody's lookin' but de owl an' de moon.I feel so kinder lonely all de daytime,It seems I raly don't know what to do;I jes keep sort a-longin' fu' de night-time,'Cause den I know dat I can be wid you.An' de thought jes sets my brain a-swayin',An' my heart a-beatin' to a tune;Come, de owl won't tell w'at we's a-sayin',An' cose you know we kin trus' de moon.

Nobody's lookin' but de owl an' de moon,An' de night is balmy; fu' de month is June;Come den, Honey, won't you? Come to meet me soon,Wile nobody's lookin' but de owl an' de moon.

I feel so kinder lonely all de daytime,It seems I raly don't know what to do;I jes keep sort a-longin' fu' de night-time,'Cause den I know dat I can be wid you.An' de thought jes sets my brain a-swayin',An' my heart a-beatin' to a tune;Come, de owl won't tell w'at we's a-sayin',An' cose you know we kin trus' de moon.

Shet yo' eyes, ma little pickaninny, go to sleepMammy's watchin' by you all de w'ile;Daddy is a-wukin' down in de cott'n fiel',Wukin' fu' his little honey child.An' yo' mammy's heart is jes a-brimmin' full o' lubFu' you f'om yo' head down to yo' feet;Oh, no mattah w'at some othah folks may t'ink o' you,To yo' mammy's heart you's mighty sweet.You's sweet to yo' mammy jes de same;Dat's why she calls you Honey fu' yo' name.Yo' face is black, dat's true,An' yo' hair is woolly, too,But, you's sweet to yo' mammy jes de same.Up der in de big house w'ere dey lib so rich an' gran'Dey's got chillen dat dey lubs, I s'pose;Chillen dat is purty, oh, but dey can't lub dem mo'Dan yo' mammy lubs you, heaben knows!Dey may t'ink you's homely, an' yo' clo'es dey may be po',But yo' shinin' eyes, dey hol's a lightDat, my Honey, w'en you opens dem so big an' roun',Makes you lubly in yo' mammy's sight.

You's sweet to yo' mammy jes de same;Dat's why she calls you Honey fu' yo' name.Yo' face is black, dat's true,An' yo' hair is woolly, too,But, you's sweet to yo' mammy jes de same.

Up der in de big house w'ere dey lib so rich an' gran'Dey's got chillen dat dey lubs, I s'pose;Chillen dat is purty, oh, but dey can't lub dem mo'Dan yo' mammy lubs you, heaben knows!

Dey may t'ink you's homely, an' yo' clo'es dey may be po',But yo' shinin' eyes, dey hol's a lightDat, my Honey, w'en you opens dem so big an' roun',Makes you lubly in yo' mammy's sight.

W'en ole Mister Sun gits tiah'd a-hangin'High up in de sky;W'en der ain't no thunder and light'nin' a-bangin',An' de crap's done all laid by;W'en yo' bones ain't achin' wid de rheumatics,Den yo' ride de mule to town,Git a great big jug o' de ole corn juice,An' w'en you drink her down—Jes lay away ole Trouble,An' dry up all yo' tears;Yo' pleasure sho' to doubleAn' you bound to lose yo' keers.Jes lay away ole SorrerHigh upon de shelf;And never mind to-morrer,'Twill take care of itself.W'en ole Mister Age begins a-stealin'Thoo yo' back an' knees,W'en yo' bones an' jints lose der limber feelin',An' am stiff'nin' by degrees;Now der's jes one way to feel young and spry,W'en you heah dem banjos soun'Git a great big swig o' de ole corn juice,An' w'en you drink her down—Jes lay away ole Trouble,An' dry up all yo' tears;Yo' pleasure sho' to doubleAn' you bound to lose yo' keers.Jes lay away ole SorrerHigh upon de shelf;And never mind to-morrer,'Twill take care of itself.

Jes lay away ole Trouble,An' dry up all yo' tears;Yo' pleasure sho' to doubleAn' you bound to lose yo' keers.Jes lay away ole SorrerHigh upon de shelf;And never mind to-morrer,'Twill take care of itself.

W'en ole Mister Age begins a-stealin'Thoo yo' back an' knees,W'en yo' bones an' jints lose der limber feelin',An' am stiff'nin' by degrees;Now der's jes one way to feel young and spry,W'en you heah dem banjos soun'Git a great big swig o' de ole corn juice,An' w'en you drink her down—

I'm back down in ole Georgy w'ere de sun is shinin' hot,W'ere de cawn it is a-tasslin', gittin' ready fu' de pot;W'ere de cott'n is a-openin' an' a-w'itenin' in de sun,An' de ripenin' o' de sugah-cane is mighty nigh begun.An' de locus' is a-singin' f'om eveh bush an' tree,An' you kin heah de hummin' o' de noisy bumblebee;An' de mule he stan's a-dreamin' an' a-dreamin' in de lot,An' de sun it is a-shinin' mighty hot, hot, hot.But evehbody is a-restin', fu' de craps is all laid by,An' time fu' de camp-meetin' is a-drawin' purty nigh;An' we's put away de ploughshare, an' we's done hung up de spade,An' we's eatin' watermelon, an' a-layin' in de shade.

I'm back down in ole Georgy w'ere de sun is shinin' hot,W'ere de cawn it is a-tasslin', gittin' ready fu' de pot;

W'ere de cott'n is a-openin' an' a-w'itenin' in de sun,An' de ripenin' o' de sugah-cane is mighty nigh begun.

An' de locus' is a-singin' f'om eveh bush an' tree,An' you kin heah de hummin' o' de noisy bumblebee;

An' de mule he stan's a-dreamin' an' a-dreamin' in de lot,An' de sun it is a-shinin' mighty hot, hot, hot.

But evehbody is a-restin', fu' de craps is all laid by,An' time fu' de camp-meetin' is a-drawin' purty nigh;

An' we's put away de ploughshare, an' we's done hung up de spade,An' we's eatin' watermelon, an' a-layin' in de shade.

W'en de banjos wuz a-ringin',An' de darkies wuz a-singin',Oh, wuzen dem de good times sho!All de ole folks would be chattin',An' de pickaninnies pattin',As dey heah'd de feet a-shufflin' 'cross de flo'.An' how we'd dance, an' how we'd sing!Dance tel de day done break.An' how dem banjos dey would ring,An' de cabin flo' would shake!Come along, come along,Come along, come along,Don't you heah dem banjos a-ringin'?Gib a song, gib a song,Gib a song, gib a song,Git yo' feet fixed up fu' a-wingin'.W'ile de banjos dey go plunka, plunka, plunk,We'll dance tel de ole flo' shake;W'ile de feet keep a-goin' chooka, chooka, chook,We'll dance tel de day done break.

An' how we'd dance, an' how we'd sing!Dance tel de day done break.An' how dem banjos dey would ring,An' de cabin flo' would shake!

Come along, come along,Come along, come along,Don't you heah dem banjos a-ringin'?

Gib a song, gib a song,Gib a song, gib a song,Git yo' feet fixed up fu' a-wingin'.

W'ile de banjos dey go plunka, plunka, plunk,We'll dance tel de ole flo' shake;W'ile de feet keep a-goin' chooka, chooka, chook,We'll dance tel de day done break.

Der ain't no use in sayin' de Lawd won't answer prah;If you knows how to ax Him, I knows He's bound to heah.De trouble is, some people don't ax de proper way,Den w'en dey git's no answer dey doubts de use to pray.You got to use egzac'ly de 'spressions an' de wordsTo show dat 'tween yo' faith an' works, you 'pends on works two-thirds.Now, one time I remember—jes how long I won't say—I thought I'd like a turkey to eat on Chris'mus day.Fu' weeks I dreamed 'bout turkeys, a-struttin' in der pride;But seed no way to get one—widout de Lawd pervide.An' so I went to prayin', I pray'd wid all my might;"Lawd, sen'tome a turkey." I pray'd bofe day an' night."Lawd, sen'tome a turkey, a big one if you please."I 'clar to heaben I pray'd so much I mos' wore out ma knees.I pray'd dat prah so often, I pray'd dat prah so long,Yet didn't git no turkey, I know'd 'twas sump'n wrong.So on de night 'fore Chris'mus w'en I got down to pray,"Lawd, sen'meto a turkey," I had de sense to say."Lawd, sen'meto a turkey." I know dat prah was right,An' it was sholy answer'd; I got de bird dat night.

Der ain't no use in sayin' de Lawd won't answer prah;If you knows how to ax Him, I knows He's bound to heah.

De trouble is, some people don't ax de proper way,Den w'en dey git's no answer dey doubts de use to pray.

You got to use egzac'ly de 'spressions an' de wordsTo show dat 'tween yo' faith an' works, you 'pends on works two-thirds.

Now, one time I remember—jes how long I won't say—I thought I'd like a turkey to eat on Chris'mus day.

Fu' weeks I dreamed 'bout turkeys, a-struttin' in der pride;But seed no way to get one—widout de Lawd pervide.

An' so I went to prayin', I pray'd wid all my might;"Lawd, sen'tome a turkey." I pray'd bofe day an' night.

"Lawd, sen'tome a turkey, a big one if you please."I 'clar to heaben I pray'd so much I mos' wore out ma knees.

I pray'd dat prah so often, I pray'd dat prah so long,Yet didn't git no turkey, I know'd 'twas sump'n wrong.

So on de night 'fore Chris'mus w'en I got down to pray,"Lawd, sen'meto a turkey," I had de sense to say.

"Lawd, sen'meto a turkey." I know dat prah was right,An' it was sholy answer'd; I got de bird dat night.

Skin as black an' jes as sof' as a velvet dress,Teeth as white as ivory—well dey is I guess.Eyes dat's jes as big an' bright as de evenin' star;An' dat hol' some sort o' light lublier by far.Hair don't hang 'way down her back; plaited up in rows;Wid de two en's dat's behin' tied wid ribben bows.Han's dat raly wuz'n made fu' hard work, I'm sho';Got a little bit o' foot; weahs a numbah fo'.You jes oughtah see dat gal Sunday's w'en she goesTo de Baptis' meetin' house, dressed in her bes' clo'es.W'en she puts her w'ite dress on an' othah things so fine;Now, Su', don't you know I'm proud o' dat gal o' mine.

Skin as black an' jes as sof' as a velvet dress,Teeth as white as ivory—well dey is I guess.

Eyes dat's jes as big an' bright as de evenin' star;An' dat hol' some sort o' light lublier by far.

Hair don't hang 'way down her back; plaited up in rows;Wid de two en's dat's behin' tied wid ribben bows.

Han's dat raly wuz'n made fu' hard work, I'm sho';Got a little bit o' foot; weahs a numbah fo'.

You jes oughtah see dat gal Sunday's w'en she goesTo de Baptis' meetin' house, dressed in her bes' clo'es.

W'en she puts her w'ite dress on an' othah things so fine;Now, Su', don't you know I'm proud o' dat gal o' mine.

W'en de leaves begin to fall,An' de fros' is on de ground,An' de 'simmons is a-ripenin' on de tree;W'en I heah de dinner call,An' de chillen gadder 'round,'Tis den de 'possum is de meat fu' me.W'en de wintertime am pas'An' de spring is come at las',W'en de good ole summer sun begins to shine;Oh! my thoughts den tek a turn,An' my heart begins to yearnFo' dat watermelon growin' on de vine.Now, de yeah will sholy bring'Round a season fu' us all,Ev'y one kin pick his season f'om de res';But de melon in de spring,An' de 'possum in de fall,Mek it hard to tell which time o' year am bes'.

W'en de leaves begin to fall,An' de fros' is on de ground,An' de 'simmons is a-ripenin' on de tree;W'en I heah de dinner call,An' de chillen gadder 'round,'Tis den de 'possum is de meat fu' me.

W'en de wintertime am pas'An' de spring is come at las',W'en de good ole summer sun begins to shine;Oh! my thoughts den tek a turn,An' my heart begins to yearnFo' dat watermelon growin' on de vine.

Now, de yeah will sholy bring'Round a season fu' us all,Ev'y one kin pick his season f'om de res';But de melon in de spring,An' de 'possum in de fall,Mek it hard to tell which time o' year am bes'.

'Simmons ripenin' in de fall,You better run,Brudder 'Possum, run!Mockin' bird commence to call,You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!Run some whar an' hide!Ole moon am sinkin'Down behin' de tree.Ole Eph am thinkin'An' chuckelin' wid glee.Ole Tige am blinkin'An' frisky as kin be,Yo' chances, Brudder 'Possum,Look mighty slim to me.Run, run, run, I tell you,Run, Brudder 'Possum, run!Run, run, run, I tell you,Ole Eph's got a gun.Pickaninnies grinnin'Waitin' fu' to see de fun.You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!Run, Brudder 'Possum, run!Brudder 'Possum take a tip;You better run,Brudder 'Possum, run!'Tain't no use in actin' flip,You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!Run some whar an' hide.Dey's gwine to houn' youAll along de line,W'en dey done foun' you,Den what's de use in sighin'?Wid taters roun' you.You sholy would tase fine—So listen, Brudder 'Possum,You better be a-flyin'.Run, run, run, I tell you,Run, Brudder 'Possum, run!Run, run, run, I tell you,Ole Eph's got a gun.Pickaninnies grinnin'Waitin' fu' to see de fun.You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!Run, Brudder 'Possum, run!

Run, run, run, I tell you,Run, Brudder 'Possum, run!Run, run, run, I tell you,Ole Eph's got a gun.Pickaninnies grinnin'Waitin' fu' to see de fun.You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!Run, Brudder 'Possum, run!

Brudder 'Possum take a tip;You better run,Brudder 'Possum, run!'Tain't no use in actin' flip,You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way!Run some whar an' hide.Dey's gwine to houn' youAll along de line,W'en dey done foun' you,Den what's de use in sighin'?Wid taters roun' you.You sholy would tase fine—So listen, Brudder 'Possum,You better be a-flyin'.

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