A DEATH SONGLay me down beneaf de willers in de grass,Whah de branch 'll go a-singin' as it pass.An' w'en I 's a-layin' low,I kin hyeah it as it goSingin', "Sleep, my honey, tek yo' res' at las'."Lay me nigh to whah hit meks a little pool,An' de watah stan's so quiet lak an' cool,Whah de little birds in spring,Ust to come an' drink an' sing,An' de chillen waded on dey way to school.Let me settle w'en my shouldahs draps dey loadNigh enough to hyeah de noises in de road;Fu' I t'ink de las' long res'Gwine to soothe my sperrit bes'Ef I's layin' 'mong de t'ings I's allus knowed.
Lay me down beneaf de willers in de grass,Whah de branch 'll go a-singin' as it pass.An' w'en I 's a-layin' low,I kin hyeah it as it goSingin', "Sleep, my honey, tek yo' res' at las'."
Lay me down beneaf de willers in de grass,
Whah de branch 'll go a-singin' as it pass.
An' w'en I 's a-layin' low,
I kin hyeah it as it go
Singin', "Sleep, my honey, tek yo' res' at las'."
Lay me nigh to whah hit meks a little pool,An' de watah stan's so quiet lak an' cool,Whah de little birds in spring,Ust to come an' drink an' sing,An' de chillen waded on dey way to school.
Lay me nigh to whah hit meks a little pool,
An' de watah stan's so quiet lak an' cool,
Whah de little birds in spring,
Ust to come an' drink an' sing,
An' de chillen waded on dey way to school.
Let me settle w'en my shouldahs draps dey loadNigh enough to hyeah de noises in de road;Fu' I t'ink de las' long res'Gwine to soothe my sperrit bes'Ef I's layin' 'mong de t'ings I's allus knowed.
Let me settle w'en my shouldahs draps dey load
Nigh enough to hyeah de noises in de road;
Fu' I t'ink de las' long res'
Gwine to soothe my sperrit bes'
Ef I's layin' 'mong de t'ings I's allus knowed.
A BACK-LOG SONGDe axes has been ringin' in de woods de blessid day,An' de chips has been a-fallin' fa' an' thick;Dey has cut de bigges' hick'ry dat de mules kin tote away,An' dey's laid hit down and soaked it in de crik.Den dey tuk hit to de big house an' dey piled de wood erroun'In de fiah-place f'om ash-flo' to de flue,While ol' Ezry sta'ts de hymn dat evah yeah has got to soun'When de back-log fus' commence a-bu'nin' thoo.Ol' Mastah is a-smilin' on de da'kies f'om de hall,Ol' Mistus is a-stannin' in de do',An' de young folks, males an' misses, is a-tryin', one an' all,Fu' to mek us feel hit 's Chrismus time fu' sho'.An' ouah hea'ts are full of pleasure, fu' we know de time is ouahsFu' to dance er do jes' whut we wants to do.An' dey ain't no ovahseer an' no othah kind o' powahsDat kin stop us while dat log is bu'nin thoo.Dey 's a-wokin' in de qua'tahs a-preparin' fu' de feas',So de little pigs is feelin' kind o' shy.De chickens ain't so trus'ful ez dey was, to say de leas',An' de wise ol' hens is roostin' mighty high.You could n't git a gobblah fu' to look you in de face—I ain't sayin' whut de tu'ky 'spects is true;But hit's mighty dange'ous trav'lin' fu' de critters on de placeF'om de time dat log commence a bu'nin' thoo.Some one's tunin' up his fiddle dah, I hyeah a banjo's ring,An', bless me, dat's de tootin' of a ho'n!Now dey 'll evah one be runnin' dat has got a foot to fling,An' dey 'll dance an' frolic on f'om now 'twell mo'n.Plunk de banjo, scrap de fiddle, blow dat ho'n yo' level bes',Keep yo' min' erpon de chune an' step it true.Oh, dey ain't no time fu' stoppin' an' dey ain't no time fu' res',Fu' hit 's Chrismus an' de back-log 's bu'nin' thoo!
De axes has been ringin' in de woods de blessid day,An' de chips has been a-fallin' fa' an' thick;Dey has cut de bigges' hick'ry dat de mules kin tote away,An' dey's laid hit down and soaked it in de crik.Den dey tuk hit to de big house an' dey piled de wood erroun'In de fiah-place f'om ash-flo' to de flue,While ol' Ezry sta'ts de hymn dat evah yeah has got to soun'When de back-log fus' commence a-bu'nin' thoo.
De axes has been ringin' in de woods de blessid day,
An' de chips has been a-fallin' fa' an' thick;
Dey has cut de bigges' hick'ry dat de mules kin tote away,
An' dey's laid hit down and soaked it in de crik.
Den dey tuk hit to de big house an' dey piled de wood erroun'
In de fiah-place f'om ash-flo' to de flue,
While ol' Ezry sta'ts de hymn dat evah yeah has got to soun'
When de back-log fus' commence a-bu'nin' thoo.
Ol' Mastah is a-smilin' on de da'kies f'om de hall,Ol' Mistus is a-stannin' in de do',An' de young folks, males an' misses, is a-tryin', one an' all,Fu' to mek us feel hit 's Chrismus time fu' sho'.An' ouah hea'ts are full of pleasure, fu' we know de time is ouahsFu' to dance er do jes' whut we wants to do.An' dey ain't no ovahseer an' no othah kind o' powahsDat kin stop us while dat log is bu'nin thoo.
Ol' Mastah is a-smilin' on de da'kies f'om de hall,
Ol' Mistus is a-stannin' in de do',
An' de young folks, males an' misses, is a-tryin', one an' all,
Fu' to mek us feel hit 's Chrismus time fu' sho'.
An' ouah hea'ts are full of pleasure, fu' we know de time is ouahs
Fu' to dance er do jes' whut we wants to do.
An' dey ain't no ovahseer an' no othah kind o' powahs
Dat kin stop us while dat log is bu'nin thoo.
Dey 's a-wokin' in de qua'tahs a-preparin' fu' de feas',So de little pigs is feelin' kind o' shy.De chickens ain't so trus'ful ez dey was, to say de leas',An' de wise ol' hens is roostin' mighty high.You could n't git a gobblah fu' to look you in de face—I ain't sayin' whut de tu'ky 'spects is true;But hit's mighty dange'ous trav'lin' fu' de critters on de placeF'om de time dat log commence a bu'nin' thoo.
Dey 's a-wokin' in de qua'tahs a-preparin' fu' de feas',
So de little pigs is feelin' kind o' shy.
De chickens ain't so trus'ful ez dey was, to say de leas',
An' de wise ol' hens is roostin' mighty high.
You could n't git a gobblah fu' to look you in de face—
I ain't sayin' whut de tu'ky 'spects is true;
But hit's mighty dange'ous trav'lin' fu' de critters on de place
F'om de time dat log commence a bu'nin' thoo.
Some one's tunin' up his fiddle dah, I hyeah a banjo's ring,An', bless me, dat's de tootin' of a ho'n!Now dey 'll evah one be runnin' dat has got a foot to fling,An' dey 'll dance an' frolic on f'om now 'twell mo'n.Plunk de banjo, scrap de fiddle, blow dat ho'n yo' level bes',Keep yo' min' erpon de chune an' step it true.Oh, dey ain't no time fu' stoppin' an' dey ain't no time fu' res',Fu' hit 's Chrismus an' de back-log 's bu'nin' thoo!
Some one's tunin' up his fiddle dah, I hyeah a banjo's ring,
An', bless me, dat's de tootin' of a ho'n!
Now dey 'll evah one be runnin' dat has got a foot to fling,
An' dey 'll dance an' frolic on f'om now 'twell mo'n.
Plunk de banjo, scrap de fiddle, blow dat ho'n yo' level bes',
Keep yo' min' erpon de chune an' step it true.
Oh, dey ain't no time fu' stoppin' an' dey ain't no time fu' res',
Fu' hit 's Chrismus an' de back-log 's bu'nin' thoo!
LULLABYBedtime 's come fu' little boys.Po' little lamb.Too tiahed out to make a noise,Po' little lamb.You gwine t' have to-morrer sho'?Yes, you tole me dat befo',Don't you fool me, chile, no mo',Po' little lamb.You been bad de livelong day,Po' little lamb.Th'owin' stones an' runnin' 'way,Po' little lamb.My, but you 's a-runnin' wil',Look jes' lak some po' folks chile;Mam' gwine whup you atter while,Po' little lamb.Come hyeah! you mos' tiahed to def,Po' little lamb.Played yo'se'f clean out o' bref,Po' little lamb.See dem han's now—sich a sight!Would you evah b'lieve dey's white?Stan' still twell I wash 'em right,Po' little lamb.Jes' cain't hol' yo' haid up straight,Po' little lamb.Had n't oughter played so late,Po' little lamb.Mammy do' know whut she 'd do,Ef de chillun's all lak you;You 's a caution now fu' true,Po' little lamb.Lay yo' haid down in my lap,Po' little lamb.Y' ought to have a right good slap,Po' little lamb.You been runnin' roun' a heap.Shet dem eyes an' don't you peep,Dah now, dah now, go to sleep,Po' little lamb.
Bedtime 's come fu' little boys.Po' little lamb.Too tiahed out to make a noise,Po' little lamb.You gwine t' have to-morrer sho'?Yes, you tole me dat befo',Don't you fool me, chile, no mo',Po' little lamb.
Bedtime 's come fu' little boys.
Po' little lamb.
Too tiahed out to make a noise,
Po' little lamb.
You gwine t' have to-morrer sho'?
Yes, you tole me dat befo',
Don't you fool me, chile, no mo',
Po' little lamb.
You been bad de livelong day,Po' little lamb.Th'owin' stones an' runnin' 'way,Po' little lamb.My, but you 's a-runnin' wil',Look jes' lak some po' folks chile;Mam' gwine whup you atter while,Po' little lamb.
You been bad de livelong day,
Po' little lamb.
Th'owin' stones an' runnin' 'way,
Po' little lamb.
My, but you 's a-runnin' wil',
Look jes' lak some po' folks chile;
Mam' gwine whup you atter while,
Po' little lamb.
Come hyeah! you mos' tiahed to def,Po' little lamb.Played yo'se'f clean out o' bref,Po' little lamb.See dem han's now—sich a sight!Would you evah b'lieve dey's white?Stan' still twell I wash 'em right,Po' little lamb.
Come hyeah! you mos' tiahed to def,
Po' little lamb.
Played yo'se'f clean out o' bref,
Po' little lamb.
See dem han's now—sich a sight!
Would you evah b'lieve dey's white?
Stan' still twell I wash 'em right,
Po' little lamb.
Jes' cain't hol' yo' haid up straight,Po' little lamb.Had n't oughter played so late,Po' little lamb.Mammy do' know whut she 'd do,Ef de chillun's all lak you;You 's a caution now fu' true,Po' little lamb.
Jes' cain't hol' yo' haid up straight,
Po' little lamb.
Had n't oughter played so late,
Po' little lamb.
Mammy do' know whut she 'd do,
Ef de chillun's all lak you;
You 's a caution now fu' true,
Po' little lamb.
Lay yo' haid down in my lap,Po' little lamb.Y' ought to have a right good slap,Po' little lamb.You been runnin' roun' a heap.Shet dem eyes an' don't you peep,Dah now, dah now, go to sleep,Po' little lamb.
Lay yo' haid down in my lap,
Po' little lamb.
Y' ought to have a right good slap,
Po' little lamb.
You been runnin' roun' a heap.
Shet dem eyes an' don't you peep,
Dah now, dah now, go to sleep,
Po' little lamb.
THE PHOTOGRAPHSee dis pictyah in my han'?Dat's my gal;Ain't she purty? goodness lan'!Huh name Sal.Dat's de very way she be—Kin' o' tickles me to seeHuh a-smilin' back at me.She sont me dis photygraphJes' las' week;An' aldough hit made me laugh—My black cheekFelt somethin' a-runnin' queer;Bless yo' soul, it was a tearJes' f'om wishin' she was here.Often when I 's all aloneLayin' here,I git t'inkin' 'bout my ownSallie dear;How she say dat I 's huh beau,An' hit tickles me to knowDat de gal do love me so.Some bright day I 's goin' back,Fo' de la!An' ez sho' 's my face is black,Ax huh paFu' de blessed little missWho 's a-smilin' out o disPictyah, lak she wan'ed a kiss!
See dis pictyah in my han'?Dat's my gal;Ain't she purty? goodness lan'!Huh name Sal.Dat's de very way she be—Kin' o' tickles me to seeHuh a-smilin' back at me.
See dis pictyah in my han'?
Dat's my gal;
Ain't she purty? goodness lan'!
Huh name Sal.
Dat's de very way she be—
Kin' o' tickles me to see
Huh a-smilin' back at me.
She sont me dis photygraphJes' las' week;An' aldough hit made me laugh—My black cheekFelt somethin' a-runnin' queer;Bless yo' soul, it was a tearJes' f'om wishin' she was here.
She sont me dis photygraph
Jes' las' week;
An' aldough hit made me laugh—
My black cheek
Felt somethin' a-runnin' queer;
Bless yo' soul, it was a tear
Jes' f'om wishin' she was here.
Often when I 's all aloneLayin' here,I git t'inkin' 'bout my ownSallie dear;How she say dat I 's huh beau,An' hit tickles me to knowDat de gal do love me so.
Often when I 's all alone
Layin' here,
I git t'inkin' 'bout my own
Sallie dear;
How she say dat I 's huh beau,
An' hit tickles me to know
Dat de gal do love me so.
Some bright day I 's goin' back,Fo' de la!An' ez sho' 's my face is black,Ax huh paFu' de blessed little missWho 's a-smilin' out o disPictyah, lak she wan'ed a kiss!
Some bright day I 's goin' back,
Fo' de la!
An' ez sho' 's my face is black,
Ax huh pa
Fu' de blessed little miss
Who 's a-smilin' out o dis
Pictyah, lak she wan'ed a kiss!
JEALOUSHyeah come Cæsar Higgins,Don't he think he 's fine?Look at dem new riggin'sAin't he tryin' to shine?Got a standin' collarAn' a stove-pipe hat,I 'll jes' bet a dollarSome one gin him dat.Don't one o' you mention,Nothin' 'bout his cloes,Don't pay no attention,Er let on you knowsDat he 's got 'em on him,Why, 't 'll mek him sick,Jes go on an' sco'n him,My, ain't dis a trick!Look hyeah, whut 's he doin'Lookin' t' othah way?Dat ere move 's a new one,Some one call him, "Say!"Can't you see no pusson—Puttin' on you' airs,Sakes alive, you 's wuss'nDese hyeah millionaires.Need n't git so flighty,Case you got dat suit.Dem cloes ain't so mighty,—Second hand to boot,I 's a-tryin' to spite you!Full of jealousy!Look hyeah, man, I 'll fight you,Don't you fool wid me!
Hyeah come Cæsar Higgins,Don't he think he 's fine?Look at dem new riggin'sAin't he tryin' to shine?Got a standin' collarAn' a stove-pipe hat,I 'll jes' bet a dollarSome one gin him dat.
Hyeah come Cæsar Higgins,
Don't he think he 's fine?
Look at dem new riggin's
Ain't he tryin' to shine?
Got a standin' collar
An' a stove-pipe hat,
I 'll jes' bet a dollar
Some one gin him dat.
Don't one o' you mention,Nothin' 'bout his cloes,Don't pay no attention,Er let on you knowsDat he 's got 'em on him,Why, 't 'll mek him sick,Jes go on an' sco'n him,My, ain't dis a trick!
Don't one o' you mention,
Nothin' 'bout his cloes,
Don't pay no attention,
Er let on you knows
Dat he 's got 'em on him,
Why, 't 'll mek him sick,
Jes go on an' sco'n him,
My, ain't dis a trick!
Look hyeah, whut 's he doin'Lookin' t' othah way?Dat ere move 's a new one,Some one call him, "Say!"Can't you see no pusson—Puttin' on you' airs,Sakes alive, you 's wuss'nDese hyeah millionaires.
Look hyeah, whut 's he doin'
Lookin' t' othah way?
Dat ere move 's a new one,
Some one call him, "Say!"
Can't you see no pusson—
Puttin' on you' airs,
Sakes alive, you 's wuss'n
Dese hyeah millionaires.
Need n't git so flighty,Case you got dat suit.Dem cloes ain't so mighty,—Second hand to boot,I 's a-tryin' to spite you!Full of jealousy!Look hyeah, man, I 'll fight you,Don't you fool wid me!
Need n't git so flighty,
Case you got dat suit.
Dem cloes ain't so mighty,—
Second hand to boot,
I 's a-tryin' to spite you!
Full of jealousy!
Look hyeah, man, I 'll fight you,
Don't you fool wid me!
PARTEDDe breeze is blowin' 'cross de bay.My lady, my lady;De ship hit teks me far away,My lady, my lady;Ole Mas' done sol' me down de stream;Dey tell me 't ain't so bad 's hit seem,My lady, my lady.O' co'se I knows dat you 'll be true,My lady, my lady;But den I do' know whut to do,My lady, my lady;I knowed some day we 'd have to pa't,But den hit put' nigh breaks my hea't,My lady, my lady.De day is long, de night is black,My lady, my lady;I know you 'll wait twell I come back,My lady, my lady;I 'll stan' de ship, I 'll stan' de chain,But I 'll come back, my darlin' Jane,My lady, my lady.Jes' wait, jes' b'lieve in whut I say,My lady, my lady;D' ain't nothin' dat kin keep me 'way,My lady, my lady;A man 's a man, an' love is love;God knows ouah hea'ts, my little dove;He 'll he'p us f'om his th'one above,My lady, my lady.
De breeze is blowin' 'cross de bay.My lady, my lady;De ship hit teks me far away,My lady, my lady;Ole Mas' done sol' me down de stream;Dey tell me 't ain't so bad 's hit seem,My lady, my lady.
De breeze is blowin' 'cross de bay.
My lady, my lady;
De ship hit teks me far away,
My lady, my lady;
Ole Mas' done sol' me down de stream;
Dey tell me 't ain't so bad 's hit seem,
My lady, my lady.
O' co'se I knows dat you 'll be true,My lady, my lady;But den I do' know whut to do,My lady, my lady;I knowed some day we 'd have to pa't,But den hit put' nigh breaks my hea't,My lady, my lady.
O' co'se I knows dat you 'll be true,
My lady, my lady;
But den I do' know whut to do,
My lady, my lady;
I knowed some day we 'd have to pa't,
But den hit put' nigh breaks my hea't,
My lady, my lady.
De day is long, de night is black,My lady, my lady;I know you 'll wait twell I come back,My lady, my lady;I 'll stan' de ship, I 'll stan' de chain,But I 'll come back, my darlin' Jane,My lady, my lady.
De day is long, de night is black,
My lady, my lady;
I know you 'll wait twell I come back,
My lady, my lady;
I 'll stan' de ship, I 'll stan' de chain,
But I 'll come back, my darlin' Jane,
My lady, my lady.
Jes' wait, jes' b'lieve in whut I say,My lady, my lady;D' ain't nothin' dat kin keep me 'way,My lady, my lady;A man 's a man, an' love is love;God knows ouah hea'ts, my little dove;He 'll he'p us f'om his th'one above,My lady, my lady.
Jes' wait, jes' b'lieve in whut I say,
My lady, my lady;
D' ain't nothin' dat kin keep me 'way,
My lady, my lady;
A man 's a man, an' love is love;
God knows ouah hea'ts, my little dove;
He 'll he'p us f'om his th'one above,
My lady, my lady.
TEMPTATIONI done got 'uligion, honey, an' I 's happy ez a king;Evahthing I see erbout me 's jes' lak sunshine in de spring;An' it seems lak I do' want to do anothah blessid thingBut jes' run an' tell de neighbours, an' to shout an' pray an' sing.I done shuk my fis' at Satan, an' I 's gin de worl' my back;I do' want no hendrin' causes now a-both'rin' in my track;Fu' I 's on my way to glory, an' I feels too sho' to miss.Wy, dey ain't no use in sinnin' when 'uligion 's sweet ez dis.Talk erbout a man backslidin' w'en he 's on de gospel way;No, suh, I done beat de debbil, an' Temptation 's los' de day.Gwine to keep my eyes right straight up, gwine to shet my eahs, an' seeWhut ole projick Mistah Satan 's gwine to try to wuk on me.Listen, whut dat soun' I hyeah dah? 'tain't no one commence to sing;It 's a fiddle; git erway dah! don' you hyeah dat blessid thing?W'y, dat's sweet ez drippin' honey, 'cause, you knows, I draws de bow,An' when music's sho' 'nough music, I 's de one dat's sho' to know.W'y, I 's done de double shuffle, twell a body could n't res',Jes' a-hyeahin' Sam de fiddlah play dat chune his level bes';I could cut a mighty caper, I could gin a mighty flingJes' right now, I 's mo' dan suttain I could cut de pigeon wing.Look hyeah, whut 's dis I 's been sayin'? whut on urf 's tuk holt o' me?Dat ole music come nigh runnin' my 'uligion up a tree!Cleah out wif dat dah ole fiddle, don' you try dat trick agin;Did n't think I could be tempted, but you lak to made me sin!
I done got 'uligion, honey, an' I 's happy ez a king;Evahthing I see erbout me 's jes' lak sunshine in de spring;An' it seems lak I do' want to do anothah blessid thingBut jes' run an' tell de neighbours, an' to shout an' pray an' sing.
I done got 'uligion, honey, an' I 's happy ez a king;
Evahthing I see erbout me 's jes' lak sunshine in de spring;
An' it seems lak I do' want to do anothah blessid thing
But jes' run an' tell de neighbours, an' to shout an' pray an' sing.
I done shuk my fis' at Satan, an' I 's gin de worl' my back;I do' want no hendrin' causes now a-both'rin' in my track;Fu' I 's on my way to glory, an' I feels too sho' to miss.Wy, dey ain't no use in sinnin' when 'uligion 's sweet ez dis.
I done shuk my fis' at Satan, an' I 's gin de worl' my back;
I do' want no hendrin' causes now a-both'rin' in my track;
Fu' I 's on my way to glory, an' I feels too sho' to miss.
Wy, dey ain't no use in sinnin' when 'uligion 's sweet ez dis.
Talk erbout a man backslidin' w'en he 's on de gospel way;No, suh, I done beat de debbil, an' Temptation 's los' de day.Gwine to keep my eyes right straight up, gwine to shet my eahs, an' seeWhut ole projick Mistah Satan 's gwine to try to wuk on me.
Talk erbout a man backslidin' w'en he 's on de gospel way;
No, suh, I done beat de debbil, an' Temptation 's los' de day.
Gwine to keep my eyes right straight up, gwine to shet my eahs, an' see
Whut ole projick Mistah Satan 's gwine to try to wuk on me.
Listen, whut dat soun' I hyeah dah? 'tain't no one commence to sing;It 's a fiddle; git erway dah! don' you hyeah dat blessid thing?W'y, dat's sweet ez drippin' honey, 'cause, you knows, I draws de bow,An' when music's sho' 'nough music, I 's de one dat's sho' to know.
Listen, whut dat soun' I hyeah dah? 'tain't no one commence to sing;
It 's a fiddle; git erway dah! don' you hyeah dat blessid thing?
W'y, dat's sweet ez drippin' honey, 'cause, you knows, I draws de bow,
An' when music's sho' 'nough music, I 's de one dat's sho' to know.
W'y, I 's done de double shuffle, twell a body could n't res',Jes' a-hyeahin' Sam de fiddlah play dat chune his level bes';I could cut a mighty caper, I could gin a mighty flingJes' right now, I 's mo' dan suttain I could cut de pigeon wing.
W'y, I 's done de double shuffle, twell a body could n't res',
Jes' a-hyeahin' Sam de fiddlah play dat chune his level bes';
I could cut a mighty caper, I could gin a mighty fling
Jes' right now, I 's mo' dan suttain I could cut de pigeon wing.
Look hyeah, whut 's dis I 's been sayin'? whut on urf 's tuk holt o' me?Dat ole music come nigh runnin' my 'uligion up a tree!Cleah out wif dat dah ole fiddle, don' you try dat trick agin;Did n't think I could be tempted, but you lak to made me sin!
Look hyeah, whut 's dis I 's been sayin'? whut on urf 's tuk holt o' me?
Dat ole music come nigh runnin' my 'uligion up a tree!
Cleah out wif dat dah ole fiddle, don' you try dat trick agin;
Did n't think I could be tempted, but you lak to made me sin!
POSSUM TROTI 've journeyed 'roun' consid'able, a-seein' men an' things,An' I 've learned a little of the sense that meetin' people brings;But in spite of all my travelling an' of all I think I know,I 've got one notion in my head, that I can't git to go;An' it is that the folks I meet in any other spotAin't half so good as them I knowed back home in Possum Trot.I know you 've never heerd the name, it ain't a famous place,An' I reckon ef you 'd search the map you could n't find a traceOf any sich locality as this I 've named to you;But never mind, I know the place, an' I love it dearly too.It don't make no pretensions to bein' great or fine,The circuses don't come that way, they ain't no railroad line.It ain't no great big city, where the schemers plan an' plot,But jest a little settlement, this place called Possum Trot.But don't you think the folks that lived in that outlandish placeWere ignorant of all the things that go for sense or grace.Why, there was Hannah Dyer, you may search this teemin' earthAn' never find a sweeter girl, er one o' greater worth;An' Uncle Abner Williams, a-leanin' on his staff,It seems like I kin hear him talk, an' hear his hearty laugh.His heart was big an' cheery as a sunny acre lot,Why, that's the kind o' folks we had down there at Possum Trot.Good times? Well, now, to suit my taste,—an' I 'm some hard to suit,—There ain't been no sich pleasure sence, an' won't be none to boot,With huskin' bees in Harvest time, an' dances later on,An' singin' school, an taffy pulls, an' fun from night till dawn.Revivals come in winter time, baptizin's in the spring,You 'd ought to seen those people shout, an' heerd 'em pray an' sing;You 'd ought to 've heard ole Parson Brown a-throwin' gospel shotAmong the saints an' sinners in the days of Possum Trot.We live up in the city now, my wife was bound to come;I hear aroun' me day by day the endless stir an' hum.I reckon that it done me good, an' yet it done me harm,That oil was found so plentiful down there on my ole farm.We 've got a new-styled preacher, our church is new-styled too,An' I 've come down from what I knowed to rent a cushioned pew.But often when I 'm settin' there, it's foolish, like as not,To think of them ol' benches in the church at Possum Trot.I know that I 'm ungrateful, an' sich thoughts must be a sin,But I find myself a wishin' that the times was back agin.With the huskin's an' the frolics, an' the joys' I used to know,When I lived at the settlement, a dozen years ago.I don't feel this way often, I 'm scarcely ever glum,For life has taught me how to take her chances as they come.But now an' then my mind goes back to that ol' buryin' plot,That holds the dust of some I loved, down there at Possum Trot.
I 've journeyed 'roun' consid'able, a-seein' men an' things,An' I 've learned a little of the sense that meetin' people brings;But in spite of all my travelling an' of all I think I know,I 've got one notion in my head, that I can't git to go;An' it is that the folks I meet in any other spotAin't half so good as them I knowed back home in Possum Trot.
I 've journeyed 'roun' consid'able, a-seein' men an' things,
An' I 've learned a little of the sense that meetin' people brings;
But in spite of all my travelling an' of all I think I know,
I 've got one notion in my head, that I can't git to go;
An' it is that the folks I meet in any other spot
Ain't half so good as them I knowed back home in Possum Trot.
I know you 've never heerd the name, it ain't a famous place,An' I reckon ef you 'd search the map you could n't find a traceOf any sich locality as this I 've named to you;But never mind, I know the place, an' I love it dearly too.It don't make no pretensions to bein' great or fine,The circuses don't come that way, they ain't no railroad line.It ain't no great big city, where the schemers plan an' plot,But jest a little settlement, this place called Possum Trot.
I know you 've never heerd the name, it ain't a famous place,
An' I reckon ef you 'd search the map you could n't find a trace
Of any sich locality as this I 've named to you;
But never mind, I know the place, an' I love it dearly too.
It don't make no pretensions to bein' great or fine,
The circuses don't come that way, they ain't no railroad line.
It ain't no great big city, where the schemers plan an' plot,
But jest a little settlement, this place called Possum Trot.
But don't you think the folks that lived in that outlandish placeWere ignorant of all the things that go for sense or grace.Why, there was Hannah Dyer, you may search this teemin' earthAn' never find a sweeter girl, er one o' greater worth;An' Uncle Abner Williams, a-leanin' on his staff,It seems like I kin hear him talk, an' hear his hearty laugh.His heart was big an' cheery as a sunny acre lot,Why, that's the kind o' folks we had down there at Possum Trot.
But don't you think the folks that lived in that outlandish place
Were ignorant of all the things that go for sense or grace.
Why, there was Hannah Dyer, you may search this teemin' earth
An' never find a sweeter girl, er one o' greater worth;
An' Uncle Abner Williams, a-leanin' on his staff,
It seems like I kin hear him talk, an' hear his hearty laugh.
His heart was big an' cheery as a sunny acre lot,
Why, that's the kind o' folks we had down there at Possum Trot.
Good times? Well, now, to suit my taste,—an' I 'm some hard to suit,—There ain't been no sich pleasure sence, an' won't be none to boot,With huskin' bees in Harvest time, an' dances later on,An' singin' school, an taffy pulls, an' fun from night till dawn.Revivals come in winter time, baptizin's in the spring,You 'd ought to seen those people shout, an' heerd 'em pray an' sing;You 'd ought to 've heard ole Parson Brown a-throwin' gospel shotAmong the saints an' sinners in the days of Possum Trot.
Good times? Well, now, to suit my taste,—an' I 'm some hard to suit,—
There ain't been no sich pleasure sence, an' won't be none to boot,
With huskin' bees in Harvest time, an' dances later on,
An' singin' school, an taffy pulls, an' fun from night till dawn.
Revivals come in winter time, baptizin's in the spring,
You 'd ought to seen those people shout, an' heerd 'em pray an' sing;
You 'd ought to 've heard ole Parson Brown a-throwin' gospel shot
Among the saints an' sinners in the days of Possum Trot.
We live up in the city now, my wife was bound to come;I hear aroun' me day by day the endless stir an' hum.I reckon that it done me good, an' yet it done me harm,That oil was found so plentiful down there on my ole farm.We 've got a new-styled preacher, our church is new-styled too,An' I 've come down from what I knowed to rent a cushioned pew.But often when I 'm settin' there, it's foolish, like as not,To think of them ol' benches in the church at Possum Trot.
We live up in the city now, my wife was bound to come;
I hear aroun' me day by day the endless stir an' hum.
I reckon that it done me good, an' yet it done me harm,
That oil was found so plentiful down there on my ole farm.
We 've got a new-styled preacher, our church is new-styled too,
An' I 've come down from what I knowed to rent a cushioned pew.
But often when I 'm settin' there, it's foolish, like as not,
To think of them ol' benches in the church at Possum Trot.
I know that I 'm ungrateful, an' sich thoughts must be a sin,But I find myself a wishin' that the times was back agin.With the huskin's an' the frolics, an' the joys' I used to know,When I lived at the settlement, a dozen years ago.I don't feel this way often, I 'm scarcely ever glum,For life has taught me how to take her chances as they come.But now an' then my mind goes back to that ol' buryin' plot,That holds the dust of some I loved, down there at Possum Trot.
I know that I 'm ungrateful, an' sich thoughts must be a sin,
But I find myself a wishin' that the times was back agin.
With the huskin's an' the frolics, an' the joys' I used to know,
When I lived at the settlement, a dozen years ago.
I don't feel this way often, I 'm scarcely ever glum,
For life has taught me how to take her chances as they come.
But now an' then my mind goes back to that ol' buryin' plot,
That holds the dust of some I loved, down there at Possum Trot.
DELYJes' lak toddy wahms you thoo'Sets yo' haid a reelin',Meks you ovah good and new,Dat 's de way I 's feelin'.Seems to me hit 's summah time,Dough hit 's wintah reely,I 's a feelin' jes' dat prime—An' huh name is Dely.Dis hyeah love 's a cu'rus thing,Changes 'roun' de season,Meks you sad or meks you sing,'Dout no urfly reason.Sometimes I go mopin' 'roun',Den agin I 's leapin';Sperits allus up an' downEven when I 's sleepin'.Fu' de dreams comes to me den,An' dey keeps me pitchin',Lak de apple dumplin's w'enBilin' in de kitchen.Some one sot to do me hahm,Tryin' to ovahcome me,Ketchin' Dely by de ahmSo 's to tek huh f'om me.Mon, you bettah b'lieve I fights(Dough hit's on'y seemin');I's a hittin' fu' my rightsEven w'en I 's dreamin'.But I 'd let you have 'em all,Give 'em to you freely,Good an' bad ones, great an' small,So 's you leave me Dely.Dely got dem meltin' eyes,Big an' black an' tendah.Dely jes' a lady-size,Delikit an' slendah.Dely brown ez brown kin beAn' huh haih is curly;Oh, she look so sweet to me,—Bless de precious girlie!Dely brown ez brown kin be,She ain' no mullatter;She pure cullud,—don' you seeDat 's jes' whut 's de mattah?Dat 's de why I love huh so,D' ain't no mix about huh,Soon 's you see huh face you knowD' ain't no chanst to doubt huh.Folks dey go to chu'ch an' praySo 's to git a blessin'.Oomph, dey bettah come my way,Dey could lu'n a lesson.Sabbaf day I don' go fu',Jes' to see my pigeon;I jes' sets an' looks at huh,Dat's enuff 'uligion.
Jes' lak toddy wahms you thoo'Sets yo' haid a reelin',Meks you ovah good and new,Dat 's de way I 's feelin'.Seems to me hit 's summah time,Dough hit 's wintah reely,I 's a feelin' jes' dat prime—An' huh name is Dely.
Jes' lak toddy wahms you thoo'
Sets yo' haid a reelin',
Meks you ovah good and new,
Dat 's de way I 's feelin'.
Seems to me hit 's summah time,
Dough hit 's wintah reely,
I 's a feelin' jes' dat prime—
An' huh name is Dely.
Dis hyeah love 's a cu'rus thing,Changes 'roun' de season,Meks you sad or meks you sing,'Dout no urfly reason.Sometimes I go mopin' 'roun',Den agin I 's leapin';Sperits allus up an' downEven when I 's sleepin'.
Dis hyeah love 's a cu'rus thing,
Changes 'roun' de season,
Meks you sad or meks you sing,
'Dout no urfly reason.
Sometimes I go mopin' 'roun',
Den agin I 's leapin';
Sperits allus up an' down
Even when I 's sleepin'.
Fu' de dreams comes to me den,An' dey keeps me pitchin',Lak de apple dumplin's w'enBilin' in de kitchen.Some one sot to do me hahm,Tryin' to ovahcome me,Ketchin' Dely by de ahmSo 's to tek huh f'om me.
Fu' de dreams comes to me den,
An' dey keeps me pitchin',
Lak de apple dumplin's w'en
Bilin' in de kitchen.
Some one sot to do me hahm,
Tryin' to ovahcome me,
Ketchin' Dely by de ahm
So 's to tek huh f'om me.
Mon, you bettah b'lieve I fights(Dough hit's on'y seemin');I's a hittin' fu' my rightsEven w'en I 's dreamin'.But I 'd let you have 'em all,Give 'em to you freely,Good an' bad ones, great an' small,So 's you leave me Dely.
Mon, you bettah b'lieve I fights
(Dough hit's on'y seemin');
I's a hittin' fu' my rights
Even w'en I 's dreamin'.
But I 'd let you have 'em all,
Give 'em to you freely,
Good an' bad ones, great an' small,
So 's you leave me Dely.
Dely got dem meltin' eyes,Big an' black an' tendah.Dely jes' a lady-size,Delikit an' slendah.Dely brown ez brown kin beAn' huh haih is curly;Oh, she look so sweet to me,—Bless de precious girlie!
Dely got dem meltin' eyes,
Big an' black an' tendah.
Dely jes' a lady-size,
Delikit an' slendah.
Dely brown ez brown kin be
An' huh haih is curly;
Oh, she look so sweet to me,—
Bless de precious girlie!
Dely brown ez brown kin be,She ain' no mullatter;She pure cullud,—don' you seeDat 's jes' whut 's de mattah?Dat 's de why I love huh so,D' ain't no mix about huh,Soon 's you see huh face you knowD' ain't no chanst to doubt huh.
Dely brown ez brown kin be,
She ain' no mullatter;
She pure cullud,—don' you see
Dat 's jes' whut 's de mattah?
Dat 's de why I love huh so,
D' ain't no mix about huh,
Soon 's you see huh face you know
D' ain't no chanst to doubt huh.
Folks dey go to chu'ch an' praySo 's to git a blessin'.Oomph, dey bettah come my way,Dey could lu'n a lesson.Sabbaf day I don' go fu',Jes' to see my pigeon;I jes' sets an' looks at huh,Dat's enuff 'uligion.
Folks dey go to chu'ch an' pray
So 's to git a blessin'.
Oomph, dey bettah come my way,
Dey could lu'n a lesson.
Sabbaf day I don' go fu',
Jes' to see my pigeon;
I jes' sets an' looks at huh,
Dat's enuff 'uligion.
BREAKING THE CHARMCaught Susanner whistlin'; well,It's most nigh too good to tell.'Twould 'a' b'en too good to seeEf it had n't b'en fur me,Comin' up so soft an' slyThat she didn' hear me nigh.I was pokin' 'round that day,An' ez I come down the way,First her whistle strikes my ears,—Then her gingham dress appears;So with soft step up I slips.Oh, them dewy, rosy lips!Ripe ez cherries, red an' round,Puckered up to make the sound.She was lookin' in the spring,Whistlin' to beat anything,—"Kitty Dale" er "In the Sweet."I was jest so mortal beatThat I can't quite ricoleckWhat the toon was, but I 'speck'T was some hymn er other, furHymny things is jest like her.Well she went on fur awhileWith her face all in a smile,An' I never moved, but stoodStiller 'n a piece o' wood—Would n't wink ner would n't stir,But a-gazin' right at her,Tell she turns an' sees me—my!Thought at first she 'd try to fly.But she blushed an' stood her ground.Then, a-slyly lookin' round,She says: "Did you hear me, Ben?""Whistlin' woman, crowin' hen,"Says I, lookin' awful stern.Then the red commenced to burnIn them cheeks o' hern. Why, la!Reddest red you ever saw—Pineys wa'n't a circumstance.You 'd 'a' noticed in a glanceShe was pow'rful shamed an' skeart;But she looked so sweet an' peart,That a idee struck my head;So I up an' slowly said:"Woman whistlin' brings shore harm,Jest one thing 'll break the charm.""And what's that?" "Oh, my!" says I,"I don't like to tell you." "Why?"Says Susanner. "Well, you seeIt would kinder fall on me."Course I knowed that she 'd insist,—So I says: "You must be kissedBy the man that heard you whistle;Everybody says that this 'llBreak the charm and set you freeFrom the threat'nin' penalty."She was blushin' fit to kill,But she answered, kinder still:"I don't want to have no harm,Please come, Ben, an' break the charm."Did I break that charm?—oh, well,There's some things I must n't tell.I remember, afterwhile,Her a-sayin' with a smile:"Oh, you quit,—you sassy dunce,You jest caught me whistlin'once."Ev'ry sence that when I hearSome one whistlin' kinder clear,I most break my neck to seeEf it 's Susy; but, dear me,I jest find I 've b'en to chaseSome blamed boy about the place.Dad 's b'en noticin' my way,An' last night I heerd him say:"We must send fur Dr. Glenn,Mother; somethin 's wrong with Ben!"
Caught Susanner whistlin'; well,It's most nigh too good to tell.'Twould 'a' b'en too good to seeEf it had n't b'en fur me,Comin' up so soft an' slyThat she didn' hear me nigh.I was pokin' 'round that day,An' ez I come down the way,First her whistle strikes my ears,—Then her gingham dress appears;So with soft step up I slips.Oh, them dewy, rosy lips!Ripe ez cherries, red an' round,Puckered up to make the sound.She was lookin' in the spring,Whistlin' to beat anything,—"Kitty Dale" er "In the Sweet."I was jest so mortal beatThat I can't quite ricoleckWhat the toon was, but I 'speck'T was some hymn er other, furHymny things is jest like her.Well she went on fur awhileWith her face all in a smile,An' I never moved, but stoodStiller 'n a piece o' wood—Would n't wink ner would n't stir,But a-gazin' right at her,Tell she turns an' sees me—my!Thought at first she 'd try to fly.But she blushed an' stood her ground.Then, a-slyly lookin' round,She says: "Did you hear me, Ben?""Whistlin' woman, crowin' hen,"Says I, lookin' awful stern.Then the red commenced to burnIn them cheeks o' hern. Why, la!Reddest red you ever saw—Pineys wa'n't a circumstance.You 'd 'a' noticed in a glanceShe was pow'rful shamed an' skeart;But she looked so sweet an' peart,That a idee struck my head;So I up an' slowly said:"Woman whistlin' brings shore harm,Jest one thing 'll break the charm.""And what's that?" "Oh, my!" says I,"I don't like to tell you." "Why?"Says Susanner. "Well, you seeIt would kinder fall on me."Course I knowed that she 'd insist,—So I says: "You must be kissedBy the man that heard you whistle;Everybody says that this 'llBreak the charm and set you freeFrom the threat'nin' penalty."She was blushin' fit to kill,But she answered, kinder still:"I don't want to have no harm,Please come, Ben, an' break the charm."Did I break that charm?—oh, well,There's some things I must n't tell.I remember, afterwhile,Her a-sayin' with a smile:"Oh, you quit,—you sassy dunce,You jest caught me whistlin'once."Ev'ry sence that when I hearSome one whistlin' kinder clear,I most break my neck to seeEf it 's Susy; but, dear me,I jest find I 've b'en to chaseSome blamed boy about the place.Dad 's b'en noticin' my way,An' last night I heerd him say:"We must send fur Dr. Glenn,Mother; somethin 's wrong with Ben!"
Caught Susanner whistlin'; well,
It's most nigh too good to tell.
'Twould 'a' b'en too good to see
Ef it had n't b'en fur me,
Comin' up so soft an' sly
That she didn' hear me nigh.
I was pokin' 'round that day,
An' ez I come down the way,
First her whistle strikes my ears,—
Then her gingham dress appears;
So with soft step up I slips.
Oh, them dewy, rosy lips!
Ripe ez cherries, red an' round,
Puckered up to make the sound.
She was lookin' in the spring,
Whistlin' to beat anything,—
"Kitty Dale" er "In the Sweet."
I was jest so mortal beat
That I can't quite ricoleck
What the toon was, but I 'speck
'T was some hymn er other, fur
Hymny things is jest like her.
Well she went on fur awhile
With her face all in a smile,
An' I never moved, but stood
Stiller 'n a piece o' wood—
Would n't wink ner would n't stir,
But a-gazin' right at her,
Tell she turns an' sees me—my!
Thought at first she 'd try to fly.
But she blushed an' stood her ground.
Then, a-slyly lookin' round,
She says: "Did you hear me, Ben?"
"Whistlin' woman, crowin' hen,"
Says I, lookin' awful stern.
Then the red commenced to burn
In them cheeks o' hern. Why, la!
Reddest red you ever saw—
Pineys wa'n't a circumstance.
You 'd 'a' noticed in a glance
She was pow'rful shamed an' skeart;
But she looked so sweet an' peart,
That a idee struck my head;
So I up an' slowly said:
"Woman whistlin' brings shore harm,
Jest one thing 'll break the charm."
"And what's that?" "Oh, my!" says I,
"I don't like to tell you." "Why?"
Says Susanner. "Well, you see
It would kinder fall on me."
Course I knowed that she 'd insist,—
So I says: "You must be kissed
By the man that heard you whistle;
Everybody says that this 'll
Break the charm and set you free
From the threat'nin' penalty."
She was blushin' fit to kill,
But she answered, kinder still:
"I don't want to have no harm,
Please come, Ben, an' break the charm."
Did I break that charm?—oh, well,
There's some things I must n't tell.
I remember, afterwhile,
Her a-sayin' with a smile:
"Oh, you quit,—you sassy dunce,
You jest caught me whistlin'once."
Ev'ry sence that when I hear
Some one whistlin' kinder clear,
I most break my neck to see
Ef it 's Susy; but, dear me,
I jest find I 've b'en to chase
Some blamed boy about the place.
Dad 's b'en noticin' my way,
An' last night I heerd him say:
"We must send fur Dr. Glenn,
Mother; somethin 's wrong with Ben!"
HUNTING SONGTek a cool night, good an' cleah,Skiff o' snow upon de groun';Jes' 'bout fall-time o' de yeahW'en de leaves is dry an brown;Tek a dog an' tek a axe,Tek a lantu'n in yo' han',Step light whah de switches cracks,Fu' dey 's huntin' in de lan'.Down thoo de valleys an' ovah de hills,Into de woods whah de 'simmon-tree grows,Wakin' an' skeerin' de po' whippo'wills,Huntin' fu' coon an' fu' 'possum we goes.Blow dat ho'n dah loud an' strong,Call de dogs an' da'kies neah;Mek its music cleah an' long,So de folks at home kin hyeah.Blow it twell de hills an' treesSen's de echoes tumblin' back;Blow it twell de back'ard breezeTells de folks we 's on de track.Coons is a-ramblin' an' 'possums is out;Look at dat dog; you could set on his tail!Watch him now—steady,—min'—what you 's about,Bless me, dat animal's got on de trail!Listen to him ba'kin now!Dat means bus'ness, sho 's you bo'n;Ef he's struck de scent I 'lowDat ere 'possum's sholy gone.Knowed dat dog fu' fo'teen yeahs,An' I nevah seed him failWen he sot dem flappin' eahsAn' went off upon a trail.Run, Mistah 'Possum, an' run, Mistah Coon,No place is safe fu' yo' ramblin' to-night;Mas' gin' de lantu'n an' God gin de moon,An' a long hunt gins a good appetite.Look hyeah, folks, you hyeah dat change?Dat ba'k is sha'per dan de res'.Dat ere soun' ain't nothin' strange,—Dat dog's talked his level bes'.Somep'n' 's treed, I know de soun'.Dah now,—wha 'd I tell you? see!Dat ere dog done run him down;Come hyeah, he'p cut down dis tree.Ah, Mistah 'Possum, we got you at las'—Need n't play daid, laying dah on de groun';Fros' an' de 'simmons has made you grow fas',—Won't he be fine when he's roasted up brown!
Tek a cool night, good an' cleah,Skiff o' snow upon de groun';Jes' 'bout fall-time o' de yeahW'en de leaves is dry an brown;Tek a dog an' tek a axe,Tek a lantu'n in yo' han',Step light whah de switches cracks,Fu' dey 's huntin' in de lan'.Down thoo de valleys an' ovah de hills,Into de woods whah de 'simmon-tree grows,Wakin' an' skeerin' de po' whippo'wills,Huntin' fu' coon an' fu' 'possum we goes.
Tek a cool night, good an' cleah,
Skiff o' snow upon de groun';
Jes' 'bout fall-time o' de yeah
W'en de leaves is dry an brown;
Tek a dog an' tek a axe,
Tek a lantu'n in yo' han',
Step light whah de switches cracks,
Fu' dey 's huntin' in de lan'.
Down thoo de valleys an' ovah de hills,
Into de woods whah de 'simmon-tree grows,
Wakin' an' skeerin' de po' whippo'wills,
Huntin' fu' coon an' fu' 'possum we goes.
Blow dat ho'n dah loud an' strong,Call de dogs an' da'kies neah;Mek its music cleah an' long,So de folks at home kin hyeah.Blow it twell de hills an' treesSen's de echoes tumblin' back;Blow it twell de back'ard breezeTells de folks we 's on de track.Coons is a-ramblin' an' 'possums is out;Look at dat dog; you could set on his tail!Watch him now—steady,—min'—what you 's about,Bless me, dat animal's got on de trail!
Blow dat ho'n dah loud an' strong,
Call de dogs an' da'kies neah;
Mek its music cleah an' long,
So de folks at home kin hyeah.
Blow it twell de hills an' trees
Sen's de echoes tumblin' back;
Blow it twell de back'ard breeze
Tells de folks we 's on de track.
Coons is a-ramblin' an' 'possums is out;
Look at dat dog; you could set on his tail!
Watch him now—steady,—min'—what you 's about,
Bless me, dat animal's got on de trail!
Listen to him ba'kin now!Dat means bus'ness, sho 's you bo'n;Ef he's struck de scent I 'lowDat ere 'possum's sholy gone.Knowed dat dog fu' fo'teen yeahs,An' I nevah seed him failWen he sot dem flappin' eahsAn' went off upon a trail.Run, Mistah 'Possum, an' run, Mistah Coon,No place is safe fu' yo' ramblin' to-night;Mas' gin' de lantu'n an' God gin de moon,An' a long hunt gins a good appetite.
Listen to him ba'kin now!
Dat means bus'ness, sho 's you bo'n;
Ef he's struck de scent I 'low
Dat ere 'possum's sholy gone.
Knowed dat dog fu' fo'teen yeahs,
An' I nevah seed him fail
Wen he sot dem flappin' eahs
An' went off upon a trail.
Run, Mistah 'Possum, an' run, Mistah Coon,
No place is safe fu' yo' ramblin' to-night;
Mas' gin' de lantu'n an' God gin de moon,
An' a long hunt gins a good appetite.
Look hyeah, folks, you hyeah dat change?Dat ba'k is sha'per dan de res'.Dat ere soun' ain't nothin' strange,—Dat dog's talked his level bes'.Somep'n' 's treed, I know de soun'.Dah now,—wha 'd I tell you? see!Dat ere dog done run him down;Come hyeah, he'p cut down dis tree.Ah, Mistah 'Possum, we got you at las'—Need n't play daid, laying dah on de groun';Fros' an' de 'simmons has made you grow fas',—Won't he be fine when he's roasted up brown!
Look hyeah, folks, you hyeah dat change?
Dat ba'k is sha'per dan de res'.
Dat ere soun' ain't nothin' strange,—
Dat dog's talked his level bes'.
Somep'n' 's treed, I know de soun'.
Dah now,—wha 'd I tell you? see!
Dat ere dog done run him down;
Come hyeah, he'p cut down dis tree.
Ah, Mistah 'Possum, we got you at las'—
Need n't play daid, laying dah on de groun';
Fros' an' de 'simmons has made you grow fas',—
Won't he be fine when he's roasted up brown!
A LETTERDear Miss Lucy: I been t'inkin' dat I 'd write you long fo' dis,But dis writin' 's mighty tejous, an' you know jes' how it is.But I 's got a little lesure, so I teks my pen in han'Fu' to let you know my feelin's since I retched dis furrin' lan'.I 's right well, I 's glad to tell you (dough dis climate ain't to blame),An' I hopes w'en dese lines reach you, dat dey 'll fin' yo' se'f de same.Cose I 'se feelin kin' o' homesick—dat 's ez nachul ez kin be,Wen a feller 's mo'n th'ee thousand miles across dat awful sea.(Don't you let nobidy fool you 'bout de ocean bein' gran';If you want to see de billers, you jes' view dem f'om de lan'.)'Bout de people? We been t'inkin' dat all white folks was alak;But dese Englishmen is diffunt, an' dey 's curus fu' a fac'.Fust, dey's heavier an' redder in dey make-up an' dey looks,An' dey don't put salt nor pepper in a blessed t'ing dey cooks!Wen dey gin you good ol' tu'nips, ca'ots, pa'snips, beets, an' sich,Ef dey ain't some one to tell you, you cain't 'stinguish which is which.Wen I t'ought I 's eatin' chicken—you may b'lieve dis hyeah 's a lie—But de waiter beat me down dat I was eatin' rabbit pie.An' dey 'd t'ink dat you was crazy—jes' a reg'lar ravin' loon,Ef you 'd speak erbout a 'possum or a piece o' good ol' coon.O, hit's mighty nice, dis trav'lin', an' I 's kin' o' glad I come.But, I reckon, now I 's willin' fu' to tek my way back home.I done see de Crystal Palace, an' I 's hyeahd dey string-band play,But I has n't seen no banjos layin' nowhahs roun' dis way.Jes' gin ol' Jim Bowles a banjo, an' he 'd not go very fu','Fo' he 'd outplayed all dese fiddlers, wif dey flourish and dey stir.Evahbiddy dat I 's met wif has been monst'ous kin an' good;But I t'ink I 'd lak it better to be down in Jones's wood,Where we ust to have sich frolics, Lucy, you an' me an' Nelse,Dough my appetite 'ud call me, ef dey was n't nuffin else.I 'd jes' lak to have some sweet-pertaters roasted in de skin;I 's a-longin' fu' my chittlin's an' my mustard greens ergin;I 's a-wishin' fu' some buttermilk, an' co'n braid, good an' brown,An' a drap o' good ol' bourbon fu' to wash my feelin's down!An' I 's comin' back to see you jes' as ehly as I kin,So you better not go spa'kin' wif dat wuffless scoun'el Quin!Well, I reckon, I mus' close now; write ez soon's dis reaches you;Gi' my love to Sister Mandy an' to Uncle Isham, too.Tell de folks I sen' 'em howdy; gin a kiss to pap an' mam;Closin' I is, deah Miss Lucy, Still Yo' Own True-Lovin' Sam.P. S. Ef you cain't mek out dis letter, lay it by erpon de she'f,An' when I git home, I 'll read it, darlin', to you my own se'f.
Dear Miss Lucy: I been t'inkin' dat I 'd write you long fo' dis,But dis writin' 's mighty tejous, an' you know jes' how it is.But I 's got a little lesure, so I teks my pen in han'Fu' to let you know my feelin's since I retched dis furrin' lan'.I 's right well, I 's glad to tell you (dough dis climate ain't to blame),An' I hopes w'en dese lines reach you, dat dey 'll fin' yo' se'f de same.Cose I 'se feelin kin' o' homesick—dat 's ez nachul ez kin be,Wen a feller 's mo'n th'ee thousand miles across dat awful sea.(Don't you let nobidy fool you 'bout de ocean bein' gran';If you want to see de billers, you jes' view dem f'om de lan'.)'Bout de people? We been t'inkin' dat all white folks was alak;But dese Englishmen is diffunt, an' dey 's curus fu' a fac'.Fust, dey's heavier an' redder in dey make-up an' dey looks,An' dey don't put salt nor pepper in a blessed t'ing dey cooks!Wen dey gin you good ol' tu'nips, ca'ots, pa'snips, beets, an' sich,Ef dey ain't some one to tell you, you cain't 'stinguish which is which.Wen I t'ought I 's eatin' chicken—you may b'lieve dis hyeah 's a lie—But de waiter beat me down dat I was eatin' rabbit pie.An' dey 'd t'ink dat you was crazy—jes' a reg'lar ravin' loon,Ef you 'd speak erbout a 'possum or a piece o' good ol' coon.O, hit's mighty nice, dis trav'lin', an' I 's kin' o' glad I come.But, I reckon, now I 's willin' fu' to tek my way back home.I done see de Crystal Palace, an' I 's hyeahd dey string-band play,But I has n't seen no banjos layin' nowhahs roun' dis way.Jes' gin ol' Jim Bowles a banjo, an' he 'd not go very fu','Fo' he 'd outplayed all dese fiddlers, wif dey flourish and dey stir.Evahbiddy dat I 's met wif has been monst'ous kin an' good;But I t'ink I 'd lak it better to be down in Jones's wood,Where we ust to have sich frolics, Lucy, you an' me an' Nelse,Dough my appetite 'ud call me, ef dey was n't nuffin else.I 'd jes' lak to have some sweet-pertaters roasted in de skin;I 's a-longin' fu' my chittlin's an' my mustard greens ergin;I 's a-wishin' fu' some buttermilk, an' co'n braid, good an' brown,An' a drap o' good ol' bourbon fu' to wash my feelin's down!An' I 's comin' back to see you jes' as ehly as I kin,So you better not go spa'kin' wif dat wuffless scoun'el Quin!Well, I reckon, I mus' close now; write ez soon's dis reaches you;Gi' my love to Sister Mandy an' to Uncle Isham, too.Tell de folks I sen' 'em howdy; gin a kiss to pap an' mam;Closin' I is, deah Miss Lucy, Still Yo' Own True-Lovin' Sam.
Dear Miss Lucy: I been t'inkin' dat I 'd write you long fo' dis,
But dis writin' 's mighty tejous, an' you know jes' how it is.
But I 's got a little lesure, so I teks my pen in han'
Fu' to let you know my feelin's since I retched dis furrin' lan'.
I 's right well, I 's glad to tell you (dough dis climate ain't to blame),
An' I hopes w'en dese lines reach you, dat dey 'll fin' yo' se'f de same.
Cose I 'se feelin kin' o' homesick—dat 's ez nachul ez kin be,
Wen a feller 's mo'n th'ee thousand miles across dat awful sea.
(Don't you let nobidy fool you 'bout de ocean bein' gran';
If you want to see de billers, you jes' view dem f'om de lan'.)
'Bout de people? We been t'inkin' dat all white folks was alak;
But dese Englishmen is diffunt, an' dey 's curus fu' a fac'.
Fust, dey's heavier an' redder in dey make-up an' dey looks,
An' dey don't put salt nor pepper in a blessed t'ing dey cooks!
Wen dey gin you good ol' tu'nips, ca'ots, pa'snips, beets, an' sich,
Ef dey ain't some one to tell you, you cain't 'stinguish which is which.
Wen I t'ought I 's eatin' chicken—you may b'lieve dis hyeah 's a lie—
But de waiter beat me down dat I was eatin' rabbit pie.
An' dey 'd t'ink dat you was crazy—jes' a reg'lar ravin' loon,
Ef you 'd speak erbout a 'possum or a piece o' good ol' coon.
O, hit's mighty nice, dis trav'lin', an' I 's kin' o' glad I come.
But, I reckon, now I 's willin' fu' to tek my way back home.
I done see de Crystal Palace, an' I 's hyeahd dey string-band play,
But I has n't seen no banjos layin' nowhahs roun' dis way.
Jes' gin ol' Jim Bowles a banjo, an' he 'd not go very fu',
'Fo' he 'd outplayed all dese fiddlers, wif dey flourish and dey stir.
Evahbiddy dat I 's met wif has been monst'ous kin an' good;
But I t'ink I 'd lak it better to be down in Jones's wood,
Where we ust to have sich frolics, Lucy, you an' me an' Nelse,
Dough my appetite 'ud call me, ef dey was n't nuffin else.
I 'd jes' lak to have some sweet-pertaters roasted in de skin;
I 's a-longin' fu' my chittlin's an' my mustard greens ergin;
I 's a-wishin' fu' some buttermilk, an' co'n braid, good an' brown,
An' a drap o' good ol' bourbon fu' to wash my feelin's down!
An' I 's comin' back to see you jes' as ehly as I kin,
So you better not go spa'kin' wif dat wuffless scoun'el Quin!
Well, I reckon, I mus' close now; write ez soon's dis reaches you;
Gi' my love to Sister Mandy an' to Uncle Isham, too.
Tell de folks I sen' 'em howdy; gin a kiss to pap an' mam;
Closin' I is, deah Miss Lucy, Still Yo' Own True-Lovin' Sam.
P. S. Ef you cain't mek out dis letter, lay it by erpon de she'f,An' when I git home, I 'll read it, darlin', to you my own se'f.
P. S. Ef you cain't mek out dis letter, lay it by erpon de she'f,
An' when I git home, I 'll read it, darlin', to you my own se'f.
CHRISMUS IS A-COMIN'Bones a-gittin' achy,Back a-feelin' col',Han's a-growin' shaky,Jes' lak I was ol'.Fros' erpon de meddahLookin' mighty white;Snowdraps lak a feddahSlippin' down at night.Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'Spite o' fros' an' showahs,Chrismus is a-comin'An' all de week is ouahs.Little mas' a-axin',"Who is Santy Claus?"Meks it kin' o' taxin'Not to brek de laws.Chillun 's pow'ful tryin'To a pusson's graceWen dey go a pryin'Right on th'oo you' faceDown ermong yo' feelin's;Jes' 'pears lak dat youGot to change you' dealin'sSo 's to tell 'em true.An' my pickaninny—Dreamin' in his sleep!Come hyeah, Mammy Jinny,Come an' tek a peep.Ol Mas' Bob an' MissisIn dey house up daihGot no chile lak dis is,D' ain't none anywhaih.Sleep, my little lammy,Sleep, you little limb,He do' know whut mammyDone saved up fu' him.Dey 'll be banjo pickin',Dancin' all night thoo.Dey 'll be lots o' chicken,Plenty tukky, too.Drams to wet yo' whistlesSo 's to drive out chills.Whut I keer fu' drizzlesFallin' on de hills?Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'Spite o' col' an' showahs,Chrismus day 's a-comin',An' all de week is ouahs.
Bones a-gittin' achy,Back a-feelin' col',Han's a-growin' shaky,Jes' lak I was ol'.Fros' erpon de meddahLookin' mighty white;Snowdraps lak a feddahSlippin' down at night.Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'Spite o' fros' an' showahs,Chrismus is a-comin'An' all de week is ouahs.
Bones a-gittin' achy,
Back a-feelin' col',
Han's a-growin' shaky,
Jes' lak I was ol'.
Fros' erpon de meddah
Lookin' mighty white;
Snowdraps lak a feddah
Slippin' down at night.
Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'
Spite o' fros' an' showahs,
Chrismus is a-comin'
An' all de week is ouahs.
Little mas' a-axin',"Who is Santy Claus?"Meks it kin' o' taxin'Not to brek de laws.Chillun 's pow'ful tryin'To a pusson's graceWen dey go a pryin'Right on th'oo you' faceDown ermong yo' feelin's;Jes' 'pears lak dat youGot to change you' dealin'sSo 's to tell 'em true.
Little mas' a-axin',
"Who is Santy Claus?"
Meks it kin' o' taxin'
Not to brek de laws.
Chillun 's pow'ful tryin'
To a pusson's grace
Wen dey go a pryin'
Right on th'oo you' face
Down ermong yo' feelin's;
Jes' 'pears lak dat you
Got to change you' dealin's
So 's to tell 'em true.
An' my pickaninny—Dreamin' in his sleep!Come hyeah, Mammy Jinny,Come an' tek a peep.Ol Mas' Bob an' MissisIn dey house up daihGot no chile lak dis is,D' ain't none anywhaih.Sleep, my little lammy,Sleep, you little limb,He do' know whut mammyDone saved up fu' him.
An' my pickaninny—
Dreamin' in his sleep!
Come hyeah, Mammy Jinny,
Come an' tek a peep.
Ol Mas' Bob an' Missis
In dey house up daih
Got no chile lak dis is,
D' ain't none anywhaih.
Sleep, my little lammy,
Sleep, you little limb,
He do' know whut mammy
Done saved up fu' him.
Dey 'll be banjo pickin',Dancin' all night thoo.Dey 'll be lots o' chicken,Plenty tukky, too.Drams to wet yo' whistlesSo 's to drive out chills.Whut I keer fu' drizzlesFallin' on de hills?Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'Spite o' col' an' showahs,Chrismus day 's a-comin',An' all de week is ouahs.
Dey 'll be banjo pickin',
Dancin' all night thoo.
Dey 'll be lots o' chicken,
Plenty tukky, too.
Drams to wet yo' whistles
So 's to drive out chills.
Whut I keer fu' drizzles
Fallin' on de hills?
Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'
Spite o' col' an' showahs,
Chrismus day 's a-comin',
An' all de week is ouahs.
A CABIN TALETHE YOUNG MASTER ASKS FOR A STORYWhut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile,You 's enough to dribe me wile.Want a sto'y; jes' hyeah dat!Whah' 'll I git a sto'y at?Di'n' I tell you th'ee las' night?Go 'way, honey, you ain't right.I got somep'n' else to do,'Cides jes' tellin' tales to you.Tell you jes' one? Lem me seeWhut dat one's a-gwine to be.When you 's ole, yo membry fails;Seems lak I do' know no tales.Well, set down dah in dat cheer,Keep still ef you wants to hyeah.Tek dat chin up off yo' han's,Set up nice now. Goodness lan's!Hol' yo'se'f up lak yo' pa.Bet nobidy evah sawHim scrunched down lak you was den—High-tone boys meks high-tone men.Once dey was a ole black bah,Used to live 'roun' hyeah some whahIn a cave. He was so bigHe could ca'y off a pigLak you picks a chicken up,Er yo' leetles' bit o' pup.An' he had two gread big eyes,Jes' erbout a saucer's size.Why, dey looked lak balls o' fiahJumpin' 'roun' erpon a wiahW'en dat bah was mad; an' laws!But you ought to seen his paws!Did I see 'em? How you 'specI 's a-gwine to ricollec'Dis hyeah ya'n I 's try'n' to spinEf you keeps on puttin' in?You keep still an' don't you cheepLess I 'll sen' you off to sleep.Dis hyeah bah 'd go trompin' 'roun'Eatin' evahthing he foun';No one could n't have a fa'mBut dat bah 'u'd do' em ha'm;And dey could n't ketch de scamp.Anywhah he wan'ed to tramp.Dah de scoun'el 'd mek his track,Do his du't an' come on back.He was sich a sly ole limb,Traps was jes' lak fun to him.Now, down neah whah Mistah BahLived, dey was a weasel dah;But dey was n't fren's a-tallCase de weasel was so small.An' de bah 'u'd, jes' fu' sass,Tu'n his nose up w'en he 'd pass.Weasels 's small o' cose, but my!Dem air animiles is sly.So dis hyeah one says, says he,"I 'll jes' fix dat bah, you see."So he fixes up his planAn' hunts up de fa'merman.When de fa'mer see him come,He 'mence lookin' mighty glum,An' he ketches up a stick;But de weasel speak up quick:"Hol' on, Mistah Fa'mer man,I wan' 'splain a little plan.Ef you waits, I 'll tell you whahAn' jes' how to ketch ol' Bah.But I tell yow now you mus'Gin me one fat chicken fus'."Den de man he scratch his haid,Las' he say, "I'll mek de trade."So de weasel et his hen,Smacked his mouf and says, "Well, den,Set yo' trap an' bait ternight,An' I 'll ketch de bah all right."Den he ups an' goes to seeMistah Bah, an' says, says he:"Well, fren' Bah, weain'tbeen fren's,But ternight ha'd feelin' 'en's.Ef you ain't too proud to steal,We kin git a splendid meal.Cose I would n't come to you,But it mus' be done by two;Hit's a trap, but we kin beatAll dey tricks an' git de meat.""Cose I 's wif you," says de bah,"Come on, weasel, show me whah."Well, dey trots erlong ontwellDat air meat beginned to smellIn de trap. Den weasel say:"Now you put yo' paw dis wayWhile I hol' de spring back so,Den you grab de meat an' go."Well, de bah he had to grinEz he put his big paw in,Den he juked up, but—kerbing!Weasel done let go de spring."Dah now," says de weasel, "dah,I done cotched you, Mistah Bah!"O, dat bah did sno't and spout,Try'n' his bestes' to git out,But de weasel say, "Goo'-bye!Weasel small, but weasel sly."Den he tu'ned his back an' runTol' de fa'mer whut he done.So de fa'mer come down dah,Wif a axe and killed de bah.Dah now, ain't dat sto'y fine?Run erlong now, nevah min'.Want some mo', you rascal, you?No, suh! no, suh! dat 'll do.
Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile,You 's enough to dribe me wile.Want a sto'y; jes' hyeah dat!Whah' 'll I git a sto'y at?Di'n' I tell you th'ee las' night?Go 'way, honey, you ain't right.I got somep'n' else to do,'Cides jes' tellin' tales to you.Tell you jes' one? Lem me seeWhut dat one's a-gwine to be.When you 's ole, yo membry fails;Seems lak I do' know no tales.Well, set down dah in dat cheer,Keep still ef you wants to hyeah.Tek dat chin up off yo' han's,Set up nice now. Goodness lan's!Hol' yo'se'f up lak yo' pa.Bet nobidy evah sawHim scrunched down lak you was den—High-tone boys meks high-tone men.
Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile,
You 's enough to dribe me wile.
Want a sto'y; jes' hyeah dat!
Whah' 'll I git a sto'y at?
Di'n' I tell you th'ee las' night?
Go 'way, honey, you ain't right.
I got somep'n' else to do,
'Cides jes' tellin' tales to you.
Tell you jes' one? Lem me see
Whut dat one's a-gwine to be.
When you 's ole, yo membry fails;
Seems lak I do' know no tales.
Well, set down dah in dat cheer,
Keep still ef you wants to hyeah.
Tek dat chin up off yo' han's,
Set up nice now. Goodness lan's!
Hol' yo'se'f up lak yo' pa.
Bet nobidy evah saw
Him scrunched down lak you was den—
High-tone boys meks high-tone men.
Once dey was a ole black bah,Used to live 'roun' hyeah some whahIn a cave. He was so bigHe could ca'y off a pigLak you picks a chicken up,Er yo' leetles' bit o' pup.An' he had two gread big eyes,Jes' erbout a saucer's size.Why, dey looked lak balls o' fiahJumpin' 'roun' erpon a wiahW'en dat bah was mad; an' laws!But you ought to seen his paws!Did I see 'em? How you 'specI 's a-gwine to ricollec'Dis hyeah ya'n I 's try'n' to spinEf you keeps on puttin' in?You keep still an' don't you cheepLess I 'll sen' you off to sleep.Dis hyeah bah 'd go trompin' 'roun'Eatin' evahthing he foun';No one could n't have a fa'mBut dat bah 'u'd do' em ha'm;And dey could n't ketch de scamp.Anywhah he wan'ed to tramp.Dah de scoun'el 'd mek his track,Do his du't an' come on back.He was sich a sly ole limb,Traps was jes' lak fun to him.
Once dey was a ole black bah,
Used to live 'roun' hyeah some whah
In a cave. He was so big
He could ca'y off a pig
Lak you picks a chicken up,
Er yo' leetles' bit o' pup.
An' he had two gread big eyes,
Jes' erbout a saucer's size.
Why, dey looked lak balls o' fiah
Jumpin' 'roun' erpon a wiah
W'en dat bah was mad; an' laws!
But you ought to seen his paws!
Did I see 'em? How you 'spec
I 's a-gwine to ricollec'
Dis hyeah ya'n I 's try'n' to spin
Ef you keeps on puttin' in?
You keep still an' don't you cheep
Less I 'll sen' you off to sleep.
Dis hyeah bah 'd go trompin' 'roun'
Eatin' evahthing he foun';
No one could n't have a fa'm
But dat bah 'u'd do' em ha'm;
And dey could n't ketch de scamp.
Anywhah he wan'ed to tramp.
Dah de scoun'el 'd mek his track,
Do his du't an' come on back.
He was sich a sly ole limb,
Traps was jes' lak fun to him.
Now, down neah whah Mistah BahLived, dey was a weasel dah;But dey was n't fren's a-tallCase de weasel was so small.An' de bah 'u'd, jes' fu' sass,Tu'n his nose up w'en he 'd pass.Weasels 's small o' cose, but my!Dem air animiles is sly.So dis hyeah one says, says he,"I 'll jes' fix dat bah, you see."So he fixes up his planAn' hunts up de fa'merman.When de fa'mer see him come,He 'mence lookin' mighty glum,An' he ketches up a stick;But de weasel speak up quick:"Hol' on, Mistah Fa'mer man,I wan' 'splain a little plan.Ef you waits, I 'll tell you whahAn' jes' how to ketch ol' Bah.But I tell yow now you mus'Gin me one fat chicken fus'."Den de man he scratch his haid,Las' he say, "I'll mek de trade."So de weasel et his hen,Smacked his mouf and says, "Well, den,Set yo' trap an' bait ternight,An' I 'll ketch de bah all right."Den he ups an' goes to seeMistah Bah, an' says, says he:"Well, fren' Bah, weain'tbeen fren's,But ternight ha'd feelin' 'en's.Ef you ain't too proud to steal,We kin git a splendid meal.Cose I would n't come to you,But it mus' be done by two;Hit's a trap, but we kin beatAll dey tricks an' git de meat.""Cose I 's wif you," says de bah,"Come on, weasel, show me whah."Well, dey trots erlong ontwellDat air meat beginned to smellIn de trap. Den weasel say:"Now you put yo' paw dis wayWhile I hol' de spring back so,Den you grab de meat an' go."Well, de bah he had to grinEz he put his big paw in,Den he juked up, but—kerbing!Weasel done let go de spring."Dah now," says de weasel, "dah,I done cotched you, Mistah Bah!"O, dat bah did sno't and spout,Try'n' his bestes' to git out,But de weasel say, "Goo'-bye!Weasel small, but weasel sly."Den he tu'ned his back an' runTol' de fa'mer whut he done.So de fa'mer come down dah,Wif a axe and killed de bah.
Now, down neah whah Mistah Bah
Lived, dey was a weasel dah;
But dey was n't fren's a-tall
Case de weasel was so small.
An' de bah 'u'd, jes' fu' sass,
Tu'n his nose up w'en he 'd pass.
Weasels 's small o' cose, but my!
Dem air animiles is sly.
So dis hyeah one says, says he,
"I 'll jes' fix dat bah, you see."
So he fixes up his plan
An' hunts up de fa'merman.
When de fa'mer see him come,
He 'mence lookin' mighty glum,
An' he ketches up a stick;
But de weasel speak up quick:
"Hol' on, Mistah Fa'mer man,
I wan' 'splain a little plan.
Ef you waits, I 'll tell you whah
An' jes' how to ketch ol' Bah.
But I tell yow now you mus'
Gin me one fat chicken fus'."
Den de man he scratch his haid,
Las' he say, "I'll mek de trade."
So de weasel et his hen,
Smacked his mouf and says, "Well, den,
Set yo' trap an' bait ternight,
An' I 'll ketch de bah all right."
Den he ups an' goes to see
Mistah Bah, an' says, says he:
"Well, fren' Bah, weain'tbeen fren's,
But ternight ha'd feelin' 'en's.
Ef you ain't too proud to steal,
We kin git a splendid meal.
Cose I would n't come to you,
But it mus' be done by two;
Hit's a trap, but we kin beat
All dey tricks an' git de meat."
"Cose I 's wif you," says de bah,
"Come on, weasel, show me whah."
Well, dey trots erlong ontwell
Dat air meat beginned to smell
In de trap. Den weasel say:
"Now you put yo' paw dis way
While I hol' de spring back so,
Den you grab de meat an' go."
Well, de bah he had to grin
Ez he put his big paw in,
Den he juked up, but—kerbing!
Weasel done let go de spring.
"Dah now," says de weasel, "dah,
I done cotched you, Mistah Bah!"
O, dat bah did sno't and spout,
Try'n' his bestes' to git out,
But de weasel say, "Goo'-bye!
Weasel small, but weasel sly."
Den he tu'ned his back an' run
Tol' de fa'mer whut he done.
So de fa'mer come down dah,
Wif a axe and killed de bah.
Dah now, ain't dat sto'y fine?Run erlong now, nevah min'.Want some mo', you rascal, you?No, suh! no, suh! dat 'll do.
Dah now, ain't dat sto'y fine?
Run erlong now, nevah min'.
Want some mo', you rascal, you?
No, suh! no, suh! dat 'll do.
AT CANDLE-LIGHTIN' TIMEWhen I come in f'om de co'n-fiel' aftah wo'kin' ha'd all day,It 's amazin' nice to fin' my suppah all erpon de way;An' it 's nice to smell de coffee bubblin' ovah in de pot,An' it 's fine to see de meat a-sizzlin' teasin'-lak an' hot.But when suppah-time is ovah, an' de t'ings is cleahed away;Den de happy hours dat foller are de sweetes' of de day.When my co'ncob pipe is sta'ted, an' de smoke is drawin' prime,My ole 'ooman says, "I reckon, Ike, it 's candle-lightin' time."Den de chillun snuggle up to me, an' all commence to call,"Oh, say, daddy, now it 's time to mek de shadders on de wall."So I puts my han's togethah—evah daddy knows de way,—An' de chillun snuggle closer roun' ez I begin to say:—"Fus' thing, hyeah come Mistah Rabbit; don' you see him wo'k his eahs?Huh, uh! dis mus' be a donkey,—look, how innercent he 'pears!Dah 's de ole black swan a-swimmin'—ain't she got a' awful neck?Who 's dis feller dat 's a-comin'? Why, dat 's ole dog Tray, I 'spec'!"Dat 's de way I run on, tryin' fu' to please 'em all I can;Den I hollahs, "Now be keerful—dis hyeah las' 's de buga-man!"An' dey runs an' hides dey faces; dey ain't skeered—dey 's lettin' on:But de play ain't raaly ovah twell dat buga-man is gone.So I jes' teks up my banjo, an' I plays a little chune,An' you see dem haids come peepin' out to listen mighty soon.Den my wife says, "Sich a pappy fu' to give you sich a fright!Jes, you go to baid, an' leave him: say yo' prayers an' say good-night."
When I come in f'om de co'n-fiel' aftah wo'kin' ha'd all day,It 's amazin' nice to fin' my suppah all erpon de way;An' it 's nice to smell de coffee bubblin' ovah in de pot,An' it 's fine to see de meat a-sizzlin' teasin'-lak an' hot.
When I come in f'om de co'n-fiel' aftah wo'kin' ha'd all day,
It 's amazin' nice to fin' my suppah all erpon de way;
An' it 's nice to smell de coffee bubblin' ovah in de pot,
An' it 's fine to see de meat a-sizzlin' teasin'-lak an' hot.
But when suppah-time is ovah, an' de t'ings is cleahed away;Den de happy hours dat foller are de sweetes' of de day.When my co'ncob pipe is sta'ted, an' de smoke is drawin' prime,My ole 'ooman says, "I reckon, Ike, it 's candle-lightin' time."
But when suppah-time is ovah, an' de t'ings is cleahed away;
Den de happy hours dat foller are de sweetes' of de day.
When my co'ncob pipe is sta'ted, an' de smoke is drawin' prime,
My ole 'ooman says, "I reckon, Ike, it 's candle-lightin' time."
Den de chillun snuggle up to me, an' all commence to call,"Oh, say, daddy, now it 's time to mek de shadders on de wall."So I puts my han's togethah—evah daddy knows de way,—An' de chillun snuggle closer roun' ez I begin to say:—
Den de chillun snuggle up to me, an' all commence to call,
"Oh, say, daddy, now it 's time to mek de shadders on de wall."
So I puts my han's togethah—evah daddy knows de way,—
An' de chillun snuggle closer roun' ez I begin to say:—
"Fus' thing, hyeah come Mistah Rabbit; don' you see him wo'k his eahs?Huh, uh! dis mus' be a donkey,—look, how innercent he 'pears!Dah 's de ole black swan a-swimmin'—ain't she got a' awful neck?Who 's dis feller dat 's a-comin'? Why, dat 's ole dog Tray, I 'spec'!"
"Fus' thing, hyeah come Mistah Rabbit; don' you see him wo'k his eahs?
Huh, uh! dis mus' be a donkey,—look, how innercent he 'pears!
Dah 's de ole black swan a-swimmin'—ain't she got a' awful neck?
Who 's dis feller dat 's a-comin'? Why, dat 's ole dog Tray, I 'spec'!"
Dat 's de way I run on, tryin' fu' to please 'em all I can;Den I hollahs, "Now be keerful—dis hyeah las' 's de buga-man!"An' dey runs an' hides dey faces; dey ain't skeered—dey 's lettin' on:But de play ain't raaly ovah twell dat buga-man is gone.
Dat 's de way I run on, tryin' fu' to please 'em all I can;
Den I hollahs, "Now be keerful—dis hyeah las' 's de buga-man!"
An' dey runs an' hides dey faces; dey ain't skeered—dey 's lettin' on:
But de play ain't raaly ovah twell dat buga-man is gone.
So I jes' teks up my banjo, an' I plays a little chune,An' you see dem haids come peepin' out to listen mighty soon.Den my wife says, "Sich a pappy fu' to give you sich a fright!Jes, you go to baid, an' leave him: say yo' prayers an' say good-night."
So I jes' teks up my banjo, an' I plays a little chune,
An' you see dem haids come peepin' out to listen mighty soon.
Den my wife says, "Sich a pappy fu' to give you sich a fright!
Jes, you go to baid, an' leave him: say yo' prayers an' say good-night."
WHISTLING SAMI has hyeahd o' people dancin' an' I 's hyeahd o' people singin'.An' I 's been 'roun' lots of othahs dat could keep de banjo ringin';But of all de whistlin' da'kies dat have lived an' died since Ham,De whistlin'est I evah seed was ol' Ike Bates's Sam.In de kitchen er de stable, in de fiel' er mowin' hay,You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' pu'ty nigh a mile erway,—Puck'rin' up his ugly features 'twell you could n't see his eyes,Den you 'd hyeah a soun' lak dis un f'om dat awful puckah rise:Musical score -Whistling Sam-.When dey had revival meetin' an' de Lawd's good grace was flowin'On de groun' dat needed wat'rin' whaih de seeds of good was growin',While de othahs was a-singin' an' a-shoutin' right an' lef,You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' kin' o' sof beneaf his bref:Musical score -Whistling Sam-.At de call fu' colo'ed soldiers, Sam enlisted 'mong de res'Wid de blue o' Gawd's great ahmy wropped about his swellin' breas',An' he laffed an' whistled loudah in his youfful joy an' gleeDat de govament would let him he'p to mek his people free.Daih was lots o' ties to bin' him, pappy, mammy, an' his Dinah,—Dinah, min' you, was his sweet-hea't, an' dey was n't nary finah;But he lef 'em all, I tell you, lak a king he ma'ched away,Try'n' his level bes' to whistle, happy, solemn, choky, gay:Musical score -Whistling Sam-.To de front he went an' bravely fought de foe an' kep' his sperrit,An' his comerds said his whistle made 'em strong when dey could hyeah it.When a saber er a bullet cut some frien' o' his'n down,An' de time 'u'd come to trench him an' de boys 'u'd gethah 'roun',An' dey could n't sta't a hymn-tune, mebbe none o' dem 'u'd keer,Sam 'u'd whistle "Sleep in Jesus," an' he knowed de Mastah 'd hyeah.In de camp, all sad discouraged, he would cheer de hea'ts of all,When above de soun' of labour dey could hyeah his whistle call:Musical score -Whistling Sam-.When de cruel wah was ovah an' de boys come ma'chin' back,Dey was shouts an' cries an' blessin's all erlong dey happy track,An' de da'kies all was happy; souls an' bodies bofe was freed.Why, hit seemed lak de Redeemah mus' 'a' been on earf indeed.Dey was gethahed all one evenin' jes' befo' de cabin do',When dey hyeahd somebody whistlin' kin' o' sof' an' sweet an' low.Dey could n't see de whistlah, but de hymn was cleah and ca'm,An' dey all stood daih a-listenin' ontwell Dinah shouted, "Sam!"An' dey seed a little da'ky way off yandah thoo de treesWid his face all in a puckah mekin' jes' sich soun's ez dese:Musical score -Whistling Sam-.
I has hyeahd o' people dancin' an' I 's hyeahd o' people singin'.An' I 's been 'roun' lots of othahs dat could keep de banjo ringin';But of all de whistlin' da'kies dat have lived an' died since Ham,De whistlin'est I evah seed was ol' Ike Bates's Sam.In de kitchen er de stable, in de fiel' er mowin' hay,You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' pu'ty nigh a mile erway,—Puck'rin' up his ugly features 'twell you could n't see his eyes,Den you 'd hyeah a soun' lak dis un f'om dat awful puckah rise:
I has hyeahd o' people dancin' an' I 's hyeahd o' people singin'.
An' I 's been 'roun' lots of othahs dat could keep de banjo ringin';
But of all de whistlin' da'kies dat have lived an' died since Ham,
De whistlin'est I evah seed was ol' Ike Bates's Sam.
In de kitchen er de stable, in de fiel' er mowin' hay,
You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' pu'ty nigh a mile erway,—
Puck'rin' up his ugly features 'twell you could n't see his eyes,
Den you 'd hyeah a soun' lak dis un f'om dat awful puckah rise:
When dey had revival meetin' an' de Lawd's good grace was flowin'On de groun' dat needed wat'rin' whaih de seeds of good was growin',While de othahs was a-singin' an' a-shoutin' right an' lef,You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' kin' o' sof beneaf his bref:
When dey had revival meetin' an' de Lawd's good grace was flowin'
On de groun' dat needed wat'rin' whaih de seeds of good was growin',
While de othahs was a-singin' an' a-shoutin' right an' lef,
You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' kin' o' sof beneaf his bref:
At de call fu' colo'ed soldiers, Sam enlisted 'mong de res'Wid de blue o' Gawd's great ahmy wropped about his swellin' breas',An' he laffed an' whistled loudah in his youfful joy an' gleeDat de govament would let him he'p to mek his people free.Daih was lots o' ties to bin' him, pappy, mammy, an' his Dinah,—Dinah, min' you, was his sweet-hea't, an' dey was n't nary finah;But he lef 'em all, I tell you, lak a king he ma'ched away,Try'n' his level bes' to whistle, happy, solemn, choky, gay:
At de call fu' colo'ed soldiers, Sam enlisted 'mong de res'
Wid de blue o' Gawd's great ahmy wropped about his swellin' breas',
An' he laffed an' whistled loudah in his youfful joy an' glee
Dat de govament would let him he'p to mek his people free.
Daih was lots o' ties to bin' him, pappy, mammy, an' his Dinah,—
Dinah, min' you, was his sweet-hea't, an' dey was n't nary finah;
But he lef 'em all, I tell you, lak a king he ma'ched away,
Try'n' his level bes' to whistle, happy, solemn, choky, gay:
To de front he went an' bravely fought de foe an' kep' his sperrit,An' his comerds said his whistle made 'em strong when dey could hyeah it.When a saber er a bullet cut some frien' o' his'n down,An' de time 'u'd come to trench him an' de boys 'u'd gethah 'roun',An' dey could n't sta't a hymn-tune, mebbe none o' dem 'u'd keer,Sam 'u'd whistle "Sleep in Jesus," an' he knowed de Mastah 'd hyeah.In de camp, all sad discouraged, he would cheer de hea'ts of all,When above de soun' of labour dey could hyeah his whistle call:
To de front he went an' bravely fought de foe an' kep' his sperrit,
An' his comerds said his whistle made 'em strong when dey could hyeah it.
When a saber er a bullet cut some frien' o' his'n down,
An' de time 'u'd come to trench him an' de boys 'u'd gethah 'roun',
An' dey could n't sta't a hymn-tune, mebbe none o' dem 'u'd keer,
Sam 'u'd whistle "Sleep in Jesus," an' he knowed de Mastah 'd hyeah.
In de camp, all sad discouraged, he would cheer de hea'ts of all,
When above de soun' of labour dey could hyeah his whistle call:
When de cruel wah was ovah an' de boys come ma'chin' back,Dey was shouts an' cries an' blessin's all erlong dey happy track,An' de da'kies all was happy; souls an' bodies bofe was freed.Why, hit seemed lak de Redeemah mus' 'a' been on earf indeed.Dey was gethahed all one evenin' jes' befo' de cabin do',When dey hyeahd somebody whistlin' kin' o' sof' an' sweet an' low.Dey could n't see de whistlah, but de hymn was cleah and ca'm,An' dey all stood daih a-listenin' ontwell Dinah shouted, "Sam!"An' dey seed a little da'ky way off yandah thoo de treesWid his face all in a puckah mekin' jes' sich soun's ez dese:
When de cruel wah was ovah an' de boys come ma'chin' back,
Dey was shouts an' cries an' blessin's all erlong dey happy track,
An' de da'kies all was happy; souls an' bodies bofe was freed.
Why, hit seemed lak de Redeemah mus' 'a' been on earf indeed.
Dey was gethahed all one evenin' jes' befo' de cabin do',
When dey hyeahd somebody whistlin' kin' o' sof' an' sweet an' low.
Dey could n't see de whistlah, but de hymn was cleah and ca'm,
An' dey all stood daih a-listenin' ontwell Dinah shouted, "Sam!"
An' dey seed a little da'ky way off yandah thoo de trees
Wid his face all in a puckah mekin' jes' sich soun's ez dese: