ONE LIFEOh, I am hurt to death, my Love;The shafts of Fate have pierced my striving heart,And I am sick and weary ofThe endless pain and smart.My soul is weary of the strife,And chafes at life, and chafes at life.Time mocks me with fair promises;A blooming future grows a barren past,Like rain my fair full-blossomed treesUnburden in the blast.The harvest fails on grain and tree,Nor comes to me, nor comes to me.The stream that bears my hopes abreastTurns ever from my way its pregnant tide.My laden boat, torn from its rest,Drifts to the other side.So all my hopes are set astray,And drift away, and drift away.The lark sings to me at the morn,And near me wings her skyward-soaring flight;But pleasure dies as soon as born,The owl takes up the night,And night seems long and doubly dark;I miss the lark, I miss the lark.Let others labor as they may,I'll sing and sigh alone, and write my line.Their fate is theirs, or grave or gay,And mine shall still be mine.I know the world holds joy and glee,But not for me,—'t is not for me.
Oh, I am hurt to death, my Love;The shafts of Fate have pierced my striving heart,And I am sick and weary ofThe endless pain and smart.My soul is weary of the strife,And chafes at life, and chafes at life.
Oh, I am hurt to death, my Love;
The shafts of Fate have pierced my striving heart,
And I am sick and weary of
The endless pain and smart.
My soul is weary of the strife,
And chafes at life, and chafes at life.
Time mocks me with fair promises;A blooming future grows a barren past,Like rain my fair full-blossomed treesUnburden in the blast.The harvest fails on grain and tree,Nor comes to me, nor comes to me.
Time mocks me with fair promises;
A blooming future grows a barren past,
Like rain my fair full-blossomed trees
Unburden in the blast.
The harvest fails on grain and tree,
Nor comes to me, nor comes to me.
The stream that bears my hopes abreastTurns ever from my way its pregnant tide.My laden boat, torn from its rest,Drifts to the other side.So all my hopes are set astray,And drift away, and drift away.
The stream that bears my hopes abreast
Turns ever from my way its pregnant tide.
My laden boat, torn from its rest,
Drifts to the other side.
So all my hopes are set astray,
And drift away, and drift away.
The lark sings to me at the morn,And near me wings her skyward-soaring flight;But pleasure dies as soon as born,The owl takes up the night,And night seems long and doubly dark;I miss the lark, I miss the lark.
The lark sings to me at the morn,
And near me wings her skyward-soaring flight;
But pleasure dies as soon as born,
The owl takes up the night,
And night seems long and doubly dark;
I miss the lark, I miss the lark.
Let others labor as they may,I'll sing and sigh alone, and write my line.Their fate is theirs, or grave or gay,And mine shall still be mine.I know the world holds joy and glee,But not for me,—'t is not for me.
Let others labor as they may,
I'll sing and sigh alone, and write my line.
Their fate is theirs, or grave or gay,
And mine shall still be mine.
I know the world holds joy and glee,
But not for me,—'t is not for me.
CHANGING TIMEThe cloud looked in at the window,And said to the day, "Be dark!"And the roguish rain tapped hard on the pane,To stifle the song of the lark.The wind sprang up in the tree topsAnd shrieked with a voice of death,But the rough-voiced breeze, that shook the trees,Was touched with a violet's breath.
The cloud looked in at the window,And said to the day, "Be dark!"And the roguish rain tapped hard on the pane,To stifle the song of the lark.
The cloud looked in at the window,
And said to the day, "Be dark!"
And the roguish rain tapped hard on the pane,
To stifle the song of the lark.
The wind sprang up in the tree topsAnd shrieked with a voice of death,But the rough-voiced breeze, that shook the trees,Was touched with a violet's breath.
The wind sprang up in the tree tops
And shrieked with a voice of death,
But the rough-voiced breeze, that shook the trees,
Was touched with a violet's breath.
DEADA knock is at her door, but she is weak;Strange dews have washed the paint streaks from her cheek;She does not rise, but, ah, this friend is known,And knows that he will find her all alone.So opens he the door, and with soft treadGoes straightway to the richly curtained bed.His soft hand on her dewy head he lays.A strange white light she gives him for his gaze.Then, looking on the glory of her charms,He crushes her resistless in his arms.Stand back! look not upon this bold embrace,Nor view the calmness of the wanton's face;With joy unspeakable and 'bated breath,She keeps her last, long liaison with death!
A knock is at her door, but she is weak;Strange dews have washed the paint streaks from her cheek;She does not rise, but, ah, this friend is known,And knows that he will find her all alone.So opens he the door, and with soft treadGoes straightway to the richly curtained bed.His soft hand on her dewy head he lays.A strange white light she gives him for his gaze.Then, looking on the glory of her charms,He crushes her resistless in his arms.
A knock is at her door, but she is weak;
Strange dews have washed the paint streaks from her cheek;
She does not rise, but, ah, this friend is known,
And knows that he will find her all alone.
So opens he the door, and with soft tread
Goes straightway to the richly curtained bed.
His soft hand on her dewy head he lays.
A strange white light she gives him for his gaze.
Then, looking on the glory of her charms,
He crushes her resistless in his arms.
Stand back! look not upon this bold embrace,Nor view the calmness of the wanton's face;With joy unspeakable and 'bated breath,She keeps her last, long liaison with death!
Stand back! look not upon this bold embrace,
Nor view the calmness of the wanton's face;
With joy unspeakable and 'bated breath,
She keeps her last, long liaison with death!
A CONFIDENCEUncle John, he makes me tired;Thinks 'at he's jest so all-firedSmart, 'at he kin pick up, so,Ever'thing he wants to know.Tried to ketch me up last night,But you bet I would n't bite.I jest kep' the smoothes' face,But I led him sich a chase,Could n't corner me, you bet—I skipped all the traps he set.Makin' out he wan'ed to knowWho was this an' that girl's beau;So 's he 'd find out, don't you see,Who was goin' 'long with me.But I answers jest ez sly,An' I never winks my eye,Tell he hollers with a whirl,"Look here, ain't you got a girl?"Y' ought 'o seen me spread my eyes,Like he 'd took me by surprise,An' I said, "Oh, Uncle John,Never thought o' havin' one."An' somehow that seemed to tickleHim an' he shelled out a nickel.Then you ought to seen me leaveJest a-laffin' in my sleeve.Fool him—well, I guess I did;He ain't on to this here kid.Got a girl! well, I guess yes,Got a dozen more or less,But I got one reely one,Not no foolin' ner no fun;Fur I 'm sweet on her, you see,An' I ruther guess 'at sheMust be kinder sweet on me,So we 're keepin' company.Honest Injun! this is true,Ever' word I 'm tellin' you!But you won't be sich a scabEz to run aroun' an' blab.Mebbe 't ain't the way with you,But you know some fellers do.Spoils a girl to let her know'At you talk about her so.Don't you know her? her name 's Liz,Nicest girl in town she is.Purty? ah, git out, you gilly—Liz 'ud purt 'nigh knock you silly.Y' ought 'o see her when she 's dressedAll up in her Sunday best,All the fellers nudgin' me,An' a-whisperin', gemunee!Betcher life 'at I feel proudWhen she passes by the crowd.'T 's kinder nice to be a-goin'With a girl 'at makes some showin'—One you know 'at hain't no snide,Makes you feel so satisfied.An' I 'll tell you she 's a trump,Never even seen her jumpLike some silly girls 'ud do,When I 'd hide and holler "Boo!"She 'd jest laff an' say "Git out!What you hollerin' about?"When some girls 'ud have a fitThat 'un don't git skeered a bit,Never makes a bit o' rowWhen she sees a worm er cow.Them kind 's few an' far between;Bravest girl I ever seen.Tell you 'nuther thing she 'll do,Mebbe you won't think it 's true,But if she 's jest got a dimeShe 'll go halvers ever' time.Ah, you goose, you need n't laff;That's the kinder girl to have.If you knowed her like I do,Guess you 'd kinder like her too.Tell you somep'n' if you 'll swearYou won't tell it anywhere.Oh, you got to cross yer heartEarnest, truly, 'fore I start.Well, one day I kissed her cheek;Gee, but I felt cheap an' weak,'Cause at first she kinder flared,'N', gracious goodness! I was scared.But I need n't been, fer la!Why, she never told her ma.That's what I call grit, don't you?Sich a girl's worth stickin' to.
Uncle John, he makes me tired;Thinks 'at he's jest so all-firedSmart, 'at he kin pick up, so,Ever'thing he wants to know.Tried to ketch me up last night,But you bet I would n't bite.I jest kep' the smoothes' face,But I led him sich a chase,Could n't corner me, you bet—I skipped all the traps he set.Makin' out he wan'ed to knowWho was this an' that girl's beau;So 's he 'd find out, don't you see,Who was goin' 'long with me.But I answers jest ez sly,An' I never winks my eye,Tell he hollers with a whirl,"Look here, ain't you got a girl?"Y' ought 'o seen me spread my eyes,Like he 'd took me by surprise,An' I said, "Oh, Uncle John,Never thought o' havin' one."An' somehow that seemed to tickleHim an' he shelled out a nickel.Then you ought to seen me leaveJest a-laffin' in my sleeve.Fool him—well, I guess I did;He ain't on to this here kid.Got a girl! well, I guess yes,Got a dozen more or less,But I got one reely one,Not no foolin' ner no fun;Fur I 'm sweet on her, you see,An' I ruther guess 'at sheMust be kinder sweet on me,So we 're keepin' company.Honest Injun! this is true,Ever' word I 'm tellin' you!But you won't be sich a scabEz to run aroun' an' blab.Mebbe 't ain't the way with you,But you know some fellers do.Spoils a girl to let her know'At you talk about her so.Don't you know her? her name 's Liz,Nicest girl in town she is.Purty? ah, git out, you gilly—Liz 'ud purt 'nigh knock you silly.Y' ought 'o see her when she 's dressedAll up in her Sunday best,All the fellers nudgin' me,An' a-whisperin', gemunee!Betcher life 'at I feel proudWhen she passes by the crowd.'T 's kinder nice to be a-goin'With a girl 'at makes some showin'—One you know 'at hain't no snide,Makes you feel so satisfied.An' I 'll tell you she 's a trump,Never even seen her jumpLike some silly girls 'ud do,When I 'd hide and holler "Boo!"She 'd jest laff an' say "Git out!What you hollerin' about?"When some girls 'ud have a fitThat 'un don't git skeered a bit,Never makes a bit o' rowWhen she sees a worm er cow.Them kind 's few an' far between;Bravest girl I ever seen.Tell you 'nuther thing she 'll do,Mebbe you won't think it 's true,But if she 's jest got a dimeShe 'll go halvers ever' time.Ah, you goose, you need n't laff;That's the kinder girl to have.If you knowed her like I do,Guess you 'd kinder like her too.Tell you somep'n' if you 'll swearYou won't tell it anywhere.Oh, you got to cross yer heartEarnest, truly, 'fore I start.Well, one day I kissed her cheek;Gee, but I felt cheap an' weak,'Cause at first she kinder flared,'N', gracious goodness! I was scared.But I need n't been, fer la!Why, she never told her ma.That's what I call grit, don't you?Sich a girl's worth stickin' to.
Uncle John, he makes me tired;
Thinks 'at he's jest so all-fired
Smart, 'at he kin pick up, so,
Ever'thing he wants to know.
Tried to ketch me up last night,
But you bet I would n't bite.
I jest kep' the smoothes' face,
But I led him sich a chase,
Could n't corner me, you bet—
I skipped all the traps he set.
Makin' out he wan'ed to know
Who was this an' that girl's beau;
So 's he 'd find out, don't you see,
Who was goin' 'long with me.
But I answers jest ez sly,
An' I never winks my eye,
Tell he hollers with a whirl,
"Look here, ain't you got a girl?"
Y' ought 'o seen me spread my eyes,
Like he 'd took me by surprise,
An' I said, "Oh, Uncle John,
Never thought o' havin' one."
An' somehow that seemed to tickle
Him an' he shelled out a nickel.
Then you ought to seen me leave
Jest a-laffin' in my sleeve.
Fool him—well, I guess I did;
He ain't on to this here kid.
Got a girl! well, I guess yes,
Got a dozen more or less,
But I got one reely one,
Not no foolin' ner no fun;
Fur I 'm sweet on her, you see,
An' I ruther guess 'at she
Must be kinder sweet on me,
So we 're keepin' company.
Honest Injun! this is true,
Ever' word I 'm tellin' you!
But you won't be sich a scab
Ez to run aroun' an' blab.
Mebbe 't ain't the way with you,
But you know some fellers do.
Spoils a girl to let her know
'At you talk about her so.
Don't you know her? her name 's Liz,
Nicest girl in town she is.
Purty? ah, git out, you gilly—
Liz 'ud purt 'nigh knock you silly.
Y' ought 'o see her when she 's dressed
All up in her Sunday best,
All the fellers nudgin' me,
An' a-whisperin', gemunee!
Betcher life 'at I feel proud
When she passes by the crowd.
'T 's kinder nice to be a-goin'
With a girl 'at makes some showin'—
One you know 'at hain't no snide,
Makes you feel so satisfied.
An' I 'll tell you she 's a trump,
Never even seen her jump
Like some silly girls 'ud do,
When I 'd hide and holler "Boo!"
She 'd jest laff an' say "Git out!
What you hollerin' about?"
When some girls 'ud have a fit
That 'un don't git skeered a bit,
Never makes a bit o' row
When she sees a worm er cow.
Them kind 's few an' far between;
Bravest girl I ever seen.
Tell you 'nuther thing she 'll do,
Mebbe you won't think it 's true,
But if she 's jest got a dime
She 'll go halvers ever' time.
Ah, you goose, you need n't laff;
That's the kinder girl to have.
If you knowed her like I do,
Guess you 'd kinder like her too.
Tell you somep'n' if you 'll swear
You won't tell it anywhere.
Oh, you got to cross yer heart
Earnest, truly, 'fore I start.
Well, one day I kissed her cheek;
Gee, but I felt cheap an' weak,
'Cause at first she kinder flared,
'N', gracious goodness! I was scared.
But I need n't been, fer la!
Why, she never told her ma.
That's what I call grit, don't you?
Sich a girl's worth stickin' to.
PHYLLISPhyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day,Few are my years, but my griefs are not few,Ever to youth should each day be a May-day,Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew—Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day!Only the cloud hangeth over my life.Love that should bring me youth's happiest heydayBrings me but seasons of sorrow and strife;Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day,Life must be lived as our destinies rule;Leisure or labor or work day or play day—Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool;Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day,Few are my years, but my griefs are not few,Ever to youth should each day be a May-day,Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew—Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day,
Few are my years, but my griefs are not few,
Ever to youth should each day be a May-day,
Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew—
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day!Only the cloud hangeth over my life.Love that should bring me youth's happiest heydayBrings me but seasons of sorrow and strife;Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day!
Only the cloud hangeth over my life.
Love that should bring me youth's happiest heyday
Brings me but seasons of sorrow and strife;
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day,Life must be lived as our destinies rule;Leisure or labor or work day or play day—Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool;Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day,
Life must be lived as our destinies rule;
Leisure or labor or work day or play day—
Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool;
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
RIGHT'S SECURITYWhat if the wind do howl without,And turn the creaking weather-vane;What if the arrows of the rainDo beat against the window-pane?Art thou not armored strong and fastAgainst the sallies of the blast?Art thou not sheltered safe and wellAgainst the flood's insistent swell?What boots it, that thou stand'st alone,And laughest in the battle's faceWhen all the weak have fled the placeAnd let their feet and fears keep pace?Thou wavest still thine ensign, high,And shoutest thy loud battle-cry;Higher than e'er the tempest roared,It cleaves the silence like a sword.Right arms and armors, too, that manWho will not compromise with wrong;Though single, he must front the throng,And wage the battle hard and long.Minorities, since time began,Have shown the better side of man;And often in the lists of TimeOne man has made a cause sublime!
What if the wind do howl without,And turn the creaking weather-vane;What if the arrows of the rainDo beat against the window-pane?Art thou not armored strong and fastAgainst the sallies of the blast?Art thou not sheltered safe and wellAgainst the flood's insistent swell?
What if the wind do howl without,
And turn the creaking weather-vane;
What if the arrows of the rain
Do beat against the window-pane?
Art thou not armored strong and fast
Against the sallies of the blast?
Art thou not sheltered safe and well
Against the flood's insistent swell?
What boots it, that thou stand'st alone,And laughest in the battle's faceWhen all the weak have fled the placeAnd let their feet and fears keep pace?Thou wavest still thine ensign, high,And shoutest thy loud battle-cry;Higher than e'er the tempest roared,It cleaves the silence like a sword.
What boots it, that thou stand'st alone,
And laughest in the battle's face
When all the weak have fled the place
And let their feet and fears keep pace?
Thou wavest still thine ensign, high,
And shoutest thy loud battle-cry;
Higher than e'er the tempest roared,
It cleaves the silence like a sword.
Right arms and armors, too, that manWho will not compromise with wrong;Though single, he must front the throng,And wage the battle hard and long.Minorities, since time began,Have shown the better side of man;And often in the lists of TimeOne man has made a cause sublime!
Right arms and armors, too, that man
Who will not compromise with wrong;
Though single, he must front the throng,
And wage the battle hard and long.
Minorities, since time began,
Have shown the better side of man;
And often in the lists of Time
One man has made a cause sublime!
IFIf life were but a dream, my Love,And death the waking time;If day had not a beam, my Love,And night had not a rhyme,—A barren, barren world were thisWithout one saving gleam;I 'd only ask that with a kissYou 'd wake me from the dream.If dreaming were the sum of days,And loving were the bane;If battling for a wreath of baysCould soothe a heart in pain,—I 'd scorn the meed of battle's might,All other aims aboveI 'd choose the human's higher right,To suffer and to love!
If life were but a dream, my Love,And death the waking time;If day had not a beam, my Love,And night had not a rhyme,—A barren, barren world were thisWithout one saving gleam;I 'd only ask that with a kissYou 'd wake me from the dream.
If life were but a dream, my Love,
And death the waking time;
If day had not a beam, my Love,
And night had not a rhyme,—
A barren, barren world were this
Without one saving gleam;
I 'd only ask that with a kiss
You 'd wake me from the dream.
If dreaming were the sum of days,And loving were the bane;If battling for a wreath of baysCould soothe a heart in pain,—I 'd scorn the meed of battle's might,All other aims aboveI 'd choose the human's higher right,To suffer and to love!
If dreaming were the sum of days,
And loving were the bane;
If battling for a wreath of bays
Could soothe a heart in pain,—
I 'd scorn the meed of battle's might,
All other aims above
I 'd choose the human's higher right,
To suffer and to love!
THE SONGMy soul, lost in the music's mist,Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amethyst.The cheerless streets grew summer meads,The Son of Ph[oe]bus spurred his steeds,And, wand'ring down the mazy tune,December lost its way in June,While from a verdant vale I heardThe piping of a love-lorn bird.A something in the tender strainRevived an old, long-conquered pain,And as in depths of many seas,My heart was drowned in memories.The tears came welling to my eyes,Nor could I ask it otherwise;For, oh! a sweetness seems to lastAmid the dregs of sorrows past.It stirred a chord that here of lateI 'd grown to think could not vibrate.It brought me back the trust of youth,The world again was joy and truth.And Avice, blooming like a bride,Once more stood trusting at my side.But still, with bosom desolate,The lorn bird sang to find his mate.Then there are trees, and lights and stars,The silv'ry tinkle of guitars;And throbs again as throbbed that waltz,Before I knew that hearts were false.Then like a cold wave on a shore,Comes silence and she sings no more.I wake, I breathe, I think again,And walk the sordid ways of men.
My soul, lost in the music's mist,Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amethyst.The cheerless streets grew summer meads,The Son of Ph[oe]bus spurred his steeds,And, wand'ring down the mazy tune,December lost its way in June,While from a verdant vale I heardThe piping of a love-lorn bird.
My soul, lost in the music's mist,
Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amethyst.
The cheerless streets grew summer meads,
The Son of Ph[oe]bus spurred his steeds,
And, wand'ring down the mazy tune,
December lost its way in June,
While from a verdant vale I heard
The piping of a love-lorn bird.
A something in the tender strainRevived an old, long-conquered pain,And as in depths of many seas,My heart was drowned in memories.The tears came welling to my eyes,Nor could I ask it otherwise;For, oh! a sweetness seems to lastAmid the dregs of sorrows past.
A something in the tender strain
Revived an old, long-conquered pain,
And as in depths of many seas,
My heart was drowned in memories.
The tears came welling to my eyes,
Nor could I ask it otherwise;
For, oh! a sweetness seems to last
Amid the dregs of sorrows past.
It stirred a chord that here of lateI 'd grown to think could not vibrate.It brought me back the trust of youth,The world again was joy and truth.And Avice, blooming like a bride,Once more stood trusting at my side.But still, with bosom desolate,The lorn bird sang to find his mate.
It stirred a chord that here of late
I 'd grown to think could not vibrate.
It brought me back the trust of youth,
The world again was joy and truth.
And Avice, blooming like a bride,
Once more stood trusting at my side.
But still, with bosom desolate,
The lorn bird sang to find his mate.
Then there are trees, and lights and stars,The silv'ry tinkle of guitars;And throbs again as throbbed that waltz,Before I knew that hearts were false.Then like a cold wave on a shore,Comes silence and she sings no more.I wake, I breathe, I think again,And walk the sordid ways of men.
Then there are trees, and lights and stars,
The silv'ry tinkle of guitars;
And throbs again as throbbed that waltz,
Before I knew that hearts were false.
Then like a cold wave on a shore,
Comes silence and she sings no more.
I wake, I breathe, I think again,
And walk the sordid ways of men.
SIGNS OF THE TIMESAir a-gittin' cool an' coolah,Frost a-comin' in de night,Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin',Possum keepin' out o' sight.Tu'key struttin' in de ba'nya'd,Nary step so proud ez his;Keep on struttin', Mistah Tu'key,Yo' do' know whut time it is.Cidah press commence a-squeakin'Eatin' apples sto'ed away,Chillun swa'min' 'roun' lak ho'nets,Huntin' aigs ermung de hay.Mistah Tu'key keep on gobblin'At de geese a-flyin' souf,Oomph! dat bird do' know whut's comin';Ef he did he 'd shet his mouf.Pumpkin gittin' good an' yallahMek me open up my eyes;Seems lak it's a-lookin' at meJes' a-la'in' dah sayin' "Pies."Tu'key gobbler gwine 'roun' blowin',Gwine 'roun' gibbin' sass an' slack;Keep on talkin', Mistah Tu'key,You ain't seed no almanac.Fa'mer walkin' th'oo de ba'nya'dSeein' how things is comin' on,Sees ef all de fowls is fatt'nin'—Good times comin' sho 's you bo'n.Hyeahs dat tu'key gobbler braggin',Den his face break in a smile—Nebbah min', you sassy rascal,He 's gwine nab you atter while.Choppin' suet in de kitchen,Stonin' raisins in de hall,Beef a-cookin' fu' de mince meat,Spices groun'—I smell 'em all.Look hyeah, Tu'key, stop dat gobblin',You ain' luned de sense ob feah,You ol' fool, yo' naik 's in dangah,Do' you know Thanksgibbin 's hyeah?
Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah,Frost a-comin' in de night,Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin',Possum keepin' out o' sight.Tu'key struttin' in de ba'nya'd,Nary step so proud ez his;Keep on struttin', Mistah Tu'key,Yo' do' know whut time it is.
Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah,
Frost a-comin' in de night,
Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin',
Possum keepin' out o' sight.
Tu'key struttin' in de ba'nya'd,
Nary step so proud ez his;
Keep on struttin', Mistah Tu'key,
Yo' do' know whut time it is.
Cidah press commence a-squeakin'Eatin' apples sto'ed away,Chillun swa'min' 'roun' lak ho'nets,Huntin' aigs ermung de hay.Mistah Tu'key keep on gobblin'At de geese a-flyin' souf,Oomph! dat bird do' know whut's comin';Ef he did he 'd shet his mouf.
Cidah press commence a-squeakin'
Eatin' apples sto'ed away,
Chillun swa'min' 'roun' lak ho'nets,
Huntin' aigs ermung de hay.
Mistah Tu'key keep on gobblin'
At de geese a-flyin' souf,
Oomph! dat bird do' know whut's comin';
Ef he did he 'd shet his mouf.
Pumpkin gittin' good an' yallahMek me open up my eyes;Seems lak it's a-lookin' at meJes' a-la'in' dah sayin' "Pies."Tu'key gobbler gwine 'roun' blowin',Gwine 'roun' gibbin' sass an' slack;Keep on talkin', Mistah Tu'key,You ain't seed no almanac.
Pumpkin gittin' good an' yallah
Mek me open up my eyes;
Seems lak it's a-lookin' at me
Jes' a-la'in' dah sayin' "Pies."
Tu'key gobbler gwine 'roun' blowin',
Gwine 'roun' gibbin' sass an' slack;
Keep on talkin', Mistah Tu'key,
You ain't seed no almanac.
Fa'mer walkin' th'oo de ba'nya'dSeein' how things is comin' on,Sees ef all de fowls is fatt'nin'—Good times comin' sho 's you bo'n.Hyeahs dat tu'key gobbler braggin',Den his face break in a smile—Nebbah min', you sassy rascal,He 's gwine nab you atter while.
Fa'mer walkin' th'oo de ba'nya'd
Seein' how things is comin' on,
Sees ef all de fowls is fatt'nin'—
Good times comin' sho 's you bo'n.
Hyeahs dat tu'key gobbler braggin',
Den his face break in a smile—
Nebbah min', you sassy rascal,
He 's gwine nab you atter while.
Choppin' suet in de kitchen,Stonin' raisins in de hall,Beef a-cookin' fu' de mince meat,Spices groun'—I smell 'em all.Look hyeah, Tu'key, stop dat gobblin',You ain' luned de sense ob feah,You ol' fool, yo' naik 's in dangah,Do' you know Thanksgibbin 's hyeah?
Choppin' suet in de kitchen,
Stonin' raisins in de hall,
Beef a-cookin' fu' de mince meat,
Spices groun'—I smell 'em all.
Look hyeah, Tu'key, stop dat gobblin',
You ain' luned de sense ob feah,
You ol' fool, yo' naik 's in dangah,
Do' you know Thanksgibbin 's hyeah?
WHY FADES A DREAM?Why fades a dream?An iridescent rayFlecked in between the trystOf night and day.Why fades a dream?—Of consciousness the shadeWrought out by lack of light and madeUpon life's stream.Why fades a dream?That thought may thrive,So fades the fleshless dream;Lest men should learn to trustThe things that seem.So fades a dream,That living thought may growAnd like a waxing star-beam glowUpon life's stream—So fades a dream.
Why fades a dream?An iridescent rayFlecked in between the trystOf night and day.Why fades a dream?—Of consciousness the shadeWrought out by lack of light and madeUpon life's stream.Why fades a dream?
Why fades a dream?
An iridescent ray
Flecked in between the tryst
Of night and day.
Why fades a dream?—
Of consciousness the shade
Wrought out by lack of light and made
Upon life's stream.
Why fades a dream?
That thought may thrive,So fades the fleshless dream;Lest men should learn to trustThe things that seem.So fades a dream,That living thought may growAnd like a waxing star-beam glowUpon life's stream—So fades a dream.
That thought may thrive,
So fades the fleshless dream;
Lest men should learn to trust
The things that seem.
So fades a dream,
That living thought may grow
And like a waxing star-beam glow
Upon life's stream—
So fades a dream.
THE SPARROWA little bird, with plumage brown,Beside my window flutters down,A moment chirps its little strain,Ten taps upon my window-pane,And chirps again, and hops along,To call my notice to its song;But I work on, nor heed its lay,Till, in neglect, it flies away.So birds of peace and hope and loveCome fluttering earthward from above,To settle on life's window-sills,And ease our load of earthly ills;But we, in traffic's rush and dinToo deep engaged to let them in,With deadened heart and sense plod on,Nor know our loss till they are gone.
A little bird, with plumage brown,Beside my window flutters down,A moment chirps its little strain,Ten taps upon my window-pane,And chirps again, and hops along,To call my notice to its song;But I work on, nor heed its lay,Till, in neglect, it flies away.
A little bird, with plumage brown,
Beside my window flutters down,
A moment chirps its little strain,
Ten taps upon my window-pane,
And chirps again, and hops along,
To call my notice to its song;
But I work on, nor heed its lay,
Till, in neglect, it flies away.
So birds of peace and hope and loveCome fluttering earthward from above,To settle on life's window-sills,And ease our load of earthly ills;But we, in traffic's rush and dinToo deep engaged to let them in,With deadened heart and sense plod on,Nor know our loss till they are gone.
So birds of peace and hope and love
Come fluttering earthward from above,
To settle on life's window-sills,
And ease our load of earthly ills;
But we, in traffic's rush and din
Too deep engaged to let them in,
With deadened heart and sense plod on,
Nor know our loss till they are gone.
SPEAKIN' O' CHRISTMASBreezes blowin' middlin' brisk,Snow-flakes thro' the air a-whisk,Fallin' kind o' soft an' light,Not enough to make things white,But jest sorter siftin' downSo 's to cover up the brownOf the dark world's rugged ways'N' make things look like holidays.Not smoothed over, but jest specked,Sorter strainin' fur effect,An' not quite a-gittin' throughWhat it started in to do.Mercy sakes! it does seem queerChristmas day is 'most nigh here.Somehow it don't seem to meChristmas like it used to be,—Christmas with its ice an' snow,Christmas of the long ago.You could feel its stir an' humWeeks an' weeks before it come;Somethin' in the atmosphereTold you when the day was near,Did n't need no almanacs;That was one o' Nature's fac's.Every cottage decked out gay—Cedar wreaths an' holly spray—An' the stores, how they were drest,Tinsel tell you could n't rest;Every winder fixed up pat,Candy canes, an' things like that;Noah's arks, an' guns, an' dolls,An' all kinds o' fol-de-rols.Then with frosty bells a-chime,Slidin' down the hills o' time,Right amidst the fun an' dinChristmas come a-bustlin' in,Raised his cheery voice to callOut a welcome to us all;Hale and hearty, strong an' bluff,That was Christmas, sure enough.Snow knee-deep an' coastin' fine,Frozen mill-ponds all ashine,Seemin' jest to lay in wait,Beggin' you to come an' skate.An' you 'd git your gal an' goStumpin' cheerily thro' the snow,Feelin' pleased an' skeert an' warm'Cause she had a-holt yore arm.Why, when Christmas come in, weSpent the whole glad day in glee,Havin' fun an' feastin' highAn' some courtin' on the sly.Bustin' in some neighbor's doorAn' then suddenly, beforeHe could give his voice a lift,Yellin' at him, "Christmas gift."Now sich things are never heard,"Merry Christmas" is the word.But it's only change o' name,An' means givin' jest the same.There 's too many new-styled waysNow about the holidays.I 'd jest like once more to seeChristmas like it used to be!
Breezes blowin' middlin' brisk,Snow-flakes thro' the air a-whisk,Fallin' kind o' soft an' light,Not enough to make things white,But jest sorter siftin' downSo 's to cover up the brownOf the dark world's rugged ways'N' make things look like holidays.Not smoothed over, but jest specked,Sorter strainin' fur effect,An' not quite a-gittin' throughWhat it started in to do.Mercy sakes! it does seem queerChristmas day is 'most nigh here.Somehow it don't seem to meChristmas like it used to be,—Christmas with its ice an' snow,Christmas of the long ago.You could feel its stir an' humWeeks an' weeks before it come;Somethin' in the atmosphereTold you when the day was near,Did n't need no almanacs;That was one o' Nature's fac's.Every cottage decked out gay—Cedar wreaths an' holly spray—An' the stores, how they were drest,Tinsel tell you could n't rest;Every winder fixed up pat,Candy canes, an' things like that;Noah's arks, an' guns, an' dolls,An' all kinds o' fol-de-rols.Then with frosty bells a-chime,Slidin' down the hills o' time,Right amidst the fun an' dinChristmas come a-bustlin' in,Raised his cheery voice to callOut a welcome to us all;Hale and hearty, strong an' bluff,That was Christmas, sure enough.Snow knee-deep an' coastin' fine,Frozen mill-ponds all ashine,Seemin' jest to lay in wait,Beggin' you to come an' skate.An' you 'd git your gal an' goStumpin' cheerily thro' the snow,Feelin' pleased an' skeert an' warm'Cause she had a-holt yore arm.Why, when Christmas come in, weSpent the whole glad day in glee,Havin' fun an' feastin' highAn' some courtin' on the sly.Bustin' in some neighbor's doorAn' then suddenly, beforeHe could give his voice a lift,Yellin' at him, "Christmas gift."Now sich things are never heard,"Merry Christmas" is the word.But it's only change o' name,An' means givin' jest the same.There 's too many new-styled waysNow about the holidays.I 'd jest like once more to seeChristmas like it used to be!
Breezes blowin' middlin' brisk,
Snow-flakes thro' the air a-whisk,
Fallin' kind o' soft an' light,
Not enough to make things white,
But jest sorter siftin' down
So 's to cover up the brown
Of the dark world's rugged ways
'N' make things look like holidays.
Not smoothed over, but jest specked,
Sorter strainin' fur effect,
An' not quite a-gittin' through
What it started in to do.
Mercy sakes! it does seem queer
Christmas day is 'most nigh here.
Somehow it don't seem to me
Christmas like it used to be,—
Christmas with its ice an' snow,
Christmas of the long ago.
You could feel its stir an' hum
Weeks an' weeks before it come;
Somethin' in the atmosphere
Told you when the day was near,
Did n't need no almanacs;
That was one o' Nature's fac's.
Every cottage decked out gay—
Cedar wreaths an' holly spray—
An' the stores, how they were drest,
Tinsel tell you could n't rest;
Every winder fixed up pat,
Candy canes, an' things like that;
Noah's arks, an' guns, an' dolls,
An' all kinds o' fol-de-rols.
Then with frosty bells a-chime,
Slidin' down the hills o' time,
Right amidst the fun an' din
Christmas come a-bustlin' in,
Raised his cheery voice to call
Out a welcome to us all;
Hale and hearty, strong an' bluff,
That was Christmas, sure enough.
Snow knee-deep an' coastin' fine,
Frozen mill-ponds all ashine,
Seemin' jest to lay in wait,
Beggin' you to come an' skate.
An' you 'd git your gal an' go
Stumpin' cheerily thro' the snow,
Feelin' pleased an' skeert an' warm
'Cause she had a-holt yore arm.
Why, when Christmas come in, we
Spent the whole glad day in glee,
Havin' fun an' feastin' high
An' some courtin' on the sly.
Bustin' in some neighbor's door
An' then suddenly, before
He could give his voice a lift,
Yellin' at him, "Christmas gift."
Now sich things are never heard,
"Merry Christmas" is the word.
But it's only change o' name,
An' means givin' jest the same.
There 's too many new-styled ways
Now about the holidays.
I 'd jest like once more to see
Christmas like it used to be!
LONESOMEMother 's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two,An', oh, the house is lonesome ez a nest whose birds has flewTo other trees to build ag'in; the rooms seem jest so bareThat the echoes run like sperrits from the kitchen to the stair.The shetters flap more lazy-like 'n what they used to do,Sence mother 's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.We 've killed the fattest chicken an' we've cooked her to a turn;We 've made the richest gravy, but I jest don't give a durnFur nothin' 'at I drink er eat, er nothin' 'at I see.The food ain't got the pleasant taste it used to have to me.They 's somep'n' stickin' in my throat ez tight ez hardened glue,Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.The hollyhocks air jest ez pink, they 're double ones at that,An' I wuz prouder of 'em than a baby of a cat.But now I don't go near 'em, though they nod an' blush at me,Fur they 's somep'n' seems to gall me in their keerless sort o' gleeAn' all their fren'ly noddin' an' their blushin' seems to say:"You 're purty lonesome, John, old boy, sence mother 's gone away."The neighbors ain't so fren'ly ez it seems they 'd ort to be;They seem to be a-lookin' kinder sideways like at me,A-kinder feared they 'd tech me off ez ef I wuz a match,An' all because 'at mother 's gone an' I 'm a-keepin' batch!I 'm shore I don't do nothin' worse 'n what I used to do'Fore mother went a-visitin' to spend a month er two.The sparrers ac's more fearsome like an' won't hop quite so near,The cricket's chirp is sadder, an' the sky ain't ha'f so clear;When ev'nin' comes, I set an' smoke tell my eyes begin to swim,An' things aroun' commence to look all blurred an' faint an' dim.Well, I guess I 'll have to own up 'at I 'm feelin' purty blueSence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
Mother 's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two,An', oh, the house is lonesome ez a nest whose birds has flewTo other trees to build ag'in; the rooms seem jest so bareThat the echoes run like sperrits from the kitchen to the stair.The shetters flap more lazy-like 'n what they used to do,Sence mother 's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
Mother 's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two,
An', oh, the house is lonesome ez a nest whose birds has flew
To other trees to build ag'in; the rooms seem jest so bare
That the echoes run like sperrits from the kitchen to the stair.
The shetters flap more lazy-like 'n what they used to do,
Sence mother 's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
We 've killed the fattest chicken an' we've cooked her to a turn;We 've made the richest gravy, but I jest don't give a durnFur nothin' 'at I drink er eat, er nothin' 'at I see.The food ain't got the pleasant taste it used to have to me.They 's somep'n' stickin' in my throat ez tight ez hardened glue,Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
We 've killed the fattest chicken an' we've cooked her to a turn;
We 've made the richest gravy, but I jest don't give a durn
Fur nothin' 'at I drink er eat, er nothin' 'at I see.
The food ain't got the pleasant taste it used to have to me.
They 's somep'n' stickin' in my throat ez tight ez hardened glue,
Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
The hollyhocks air jest ez pink, they 're double ones at that,An' I wuz prouder of 'em than a baby of a cat.But now I don't go near 'em, though they nod an' blush at me,Fur they 's somep'n' seems to gall me in their keerless sort o' gleeAn' all their fren'ly noddin' an' their blushin' seems to say:"You 're purty lonesome, John, old boy, sence mother 's gone away."
The hollyhocks air jest ez pink, they 're double ones at that,
An' I wuz prouder of 'em than a baby of a cat.
But now I don't go near 'em, though they nod an' blush at me,
Fur they 's somep'n' seems to gall me in their keerless sort o' glee
An' all their fren'ly noddin' an' their blushin' seems to say:
"You 're purty lonesome, John, old boy, sence mother 's gone away."
The neighbors ain't so fren'ly ez it seems they 'd ort to be;They seem to be a-lookin' kinder sideways like at me,A-kinder feared they 'd tech me off ez ef I wuz a match,An' all because 'at mother 's gone an' I 'm a-keepin' batch!I 'm shore I don't do nothin' worse 'n what I used to do'Fore mother went a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
The neighbors ain't so fren'ly ez it seems they 'd ort to be;
They seem to be a-lookin' kinder sideways like at me,
A-kinder feared they 'd tech me off ez ef I wuz a match,
An' all because 'at mother 's gone an' I 'm a-keepin' batch!
I 'm shore I don't do nothin' worse 'n what I used to do
'Fore mother went a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
The sparrers ac's more fearsome like an' won't hop quite so near,The cricket's chirp is sadder, an' the sky ain't ha'f so clear;When ev'nin' comes, I set an' smoke tell my eyes begin to swim,An' things aroun' commence to look all blurred an' faint an' dim.Well, I guess I 'll have to own up 'at I 'm feelin' purty blueSence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
The sparrers ac's more fearsome like an' won't hop quite so near,
The cricket's chirp is sadder, an' the sky ain't ha'f so clear;
When ev'nin' comes, I set an' smoke tell my eyes begin to swim,
An' things aroun' commence to look all blurred an' faint an' dim.
Well, I guess I 'll have to own up 'at I 'm feelin' purty blue
Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
GROWIN' GRAYHello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray,An' it beats ole Ned to see the way'At the crow's feet's a-getherin' aroun' yore eyes;Tho' it ought n't to cause me no su'prise,Fur there 's many a sun 'at you 've seen riseAn' many a one you 've seen go downSence yore step was light an' yore hair was brown,An' storms an' snows have had their way—Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray.Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray,An' the youthful pranks 'at you used to playAre dreams of a far past long agoThat lie in a heart where the fires burn low—That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,An' spite of drivin' snow an' storm,Beats bravely on forever warm.December holds the place of May—Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray.Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray—Who cares what the carpin' youngsters say?For, after all, when the tale is told,Love proves if a man is young or old!Old age can't make the heart grow coldWhen it does the will of an honest mind;When it beats with love fur all mankind;Then the night but leads to a fairer day—Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray!
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray,An' it beats ole Ned to see the way'At the crow's feet's a-getherin' aroun' yore eyes;Tho' it ought n't to cause me no su'prise,Fur there 's many a sun 'at you 've seen riseAn' many a one you 've seen go downSence yore step was light an' yore hair was brown,An' storms an' snows have had their way—Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray,
An' it beats ole Ned to see the way
'At the crow's feet's a-getherin' aroun' yore eyes;
Tho' it ought n't to cause me no su'prise,
Fur there 's many a sun 'at you 've seen rise
An' many a one you 've seen go down
Sence yore step was light an' yore hair was brown,
An' storms an' snows have had their way—
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray,An' the youthful pranks 'at you used to playAre dreams of a far past long agoThat lie in a heart where the fires burn low—That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,An' spite of drivin' snow an' storm,Beats bravely on forever warm.December holds the place of May—Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray,
An' the youthful pranks 'at you used to play
Are dreams of a far past long ago
That lie in a heart where the fires burn low—
That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,
An' spite of drivin' snow an' storm,
Beats bravely on forever warm.
December holds the place of May—
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray—Who cares what the carpin' youngsters say?For, after all, when the tale is told,Love proves if a man is young or old!Old age can't make the heart grow coldWhen it does the will of an honest mind;When it beats with love fur all mankind;Then the night but leads to a fairer day—Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray!
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray—
Who cares what the carpin' youngsters say?
For, after all, when the tale is told,
Love proves if a man is young or old!
Old age can't make the heart grow cold
When it does the will of an honest mind;
When it beats with love fur all mankind;
Then the night but leads to a fairer day—
Hello, ole man, you 're a-gittin' gray!
TO THE MEMORY OF MARY YOUNGGod has his plans, and what if weWith our sight be too blind to seeTheir full fruition; cannot he,Who made it, solve the mystery?One whom we loved has fall'n asleep,Not died; although her calm be deep,Some new, unknown, and strange surpriseIn Heaven holds enrapt her eyes.And can you blame her that her gazeIs turned away from earthly ways,When to her eyes God's light and loveHave giv'n the view of things above?A gentle spirit sweetly good,The pearl of precious womanhood;Who heard the voice of duty clear,And found her mission soon and near.She loved all nature, flowers fair,The warmth of sun, the kiss of air,The birds that filled the sky with song,The stream that laughed its way along.Her home to her was shrine and throne,But one love held her not alone;She sought out poverty and grief,Who touched her robe and found relief.So sped she in her Master's work,Too busy and too brave to shirk,When through the silence, dusk and dim,God called her and she fled to him.We wonder at the early call,And tears of sorrow can but fallFor her o'er whom we spread the pall;But faith, sweet faith, is over all.The house is dust, the voice is dumb,But through undying years to come,The spark that glowed within her soulShall light our footsteps to the goal.She went her way; but oh, she trodThe path that led her straight to God.Such lives as this put death to scorn;They lose our day to find God's morn.
God has his plans, and what if weWith our sight be too blind to seeTheir full fruition; cannot he,Who made it, solve the mystery?One whom we loved has fall'n asleep,Not died; although her calm be deep,Some new, unknown, and strange surpriseIn Heaven holds enrapt her eyes.
God has his plans, and what if we
With our sight be too blind to see
Their full fruition; cannot he,
Who made it, solve the mystery?
One whom we loved has fall'n asleep,
Not died; although her calm be deep,
Some new, unknown, and strange surprise
In Heaven holds enrapt her eyes.
And can you blame her that her gazeIs turned away from earthly ways,When to her eyes God's light and loveHave giv'n the view of things above?A gentle spirit sweetly good,The pearl of precious womanhood;Who heard the voice of duty clear,And found her mission soon and near.
And can you blame her that her gaze
Is turned away from earthly ways,
When to her eyes God's light and love
Have giv'n the view of things above?
A gentle spirit sweetly good,
The pearl of precious womanhood;
Who heard the voice of duty clear,
And found her mission soon and near.
She loved all nature, flowers fair,The warmth of sun, the kiss of air,The birds that filled the sky with song,The stream that laughed its way along.Her home to her was shrine and throne,But one love held her not alone;She sought out poverty and grief,Who touched her robe and found relief.
She loved all nature, flowers fair,
The warmth of sun, the kiss of air,
The birds that filled the sky with song,
The stream that laughed its way along.
Her home to her was shrine and throne,
But one love held her not alone;
She sought out poverty and grief,
Who touched her robe and found relief.
So sped she in her Master's work,Too busy and too brave to shirk,When through the silence, dusk and dim,God called her and she fled to him.We wonder at the early call,And tears of sorrow can but fallFor her o'er whom we spread the pall;But faith, sweet faith, is over all.
So sped she in her Master's work,
Too busy and too brave to shirk,
When through the silence, dusk and dim,
God called her and she fled to him.
We wonder at the early call,
And tears of sorrow can but fall
For her o'er whom we spread the pall;
But faith, sweet faith, is over all.
The house is dust, the voice is dumb,But through undying years to come,The spark that glowed within her soulShall light our footsteps to the goal.She went her way; but oh, she trodThe path that led her straight to God.Such lives as this put death to scorn;They lose our day to find God's morn.
The house is dust, the voice is dumb,
But through undying years to come,
The spark that glowed within her soul
Shall light our footsteps to the goal.
She went her way; but oh, she trod
The path that led her straight to God.
Such lives as this put death to scorn;
They lose our day to find God's morn.
WHEN MALINDY SINGSG'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy—Put dat music book away;What's de use to keep on tryin'?Ef you practise twell you 're gray,You cain't sta't no notes a-flyin'Lak de ones dat rants and ringsF'om de kitchen to be big woodsWhen Malindy sings.You ain't got de nachel o'gansFu' to make de soun' come right,You ain't got de tu'ns an' twistin'sFu' to make it sweet an' light.Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy,An' I 'm tellin' you fu' true,When hit comes to raal right singin','T ain't no easy thing to do.Easy 'nough fu' folks to hollah,Lookin' at de lines an' dots,When dey ain't no one kin sence it,An' de chune comes in, in spots;But fu' real melojous music,Dat jes' strikes yo' hea't and clings,Jes' you stan' an' listen wif meWhen Malindy sings.Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy?Blessed soul, tek up de cross!Look hyeah, ain't you jokin', honey?Well, you don't know whut you los'.Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa'blin',Robins, la'ks, an' all dem things,Heish dey moufs an' hides dey facesWhen Malindy sings.Fiddlin' man jes' stop his fiddlin',Lay his fiddle on de she'f;Mockin'-bird quit tryin' to whistle,'Cause he jes' so shamed hisse'f.Folks a-playin' on de banjoDraps dey fingahs on de strings—Bless yo' soul—fu'gits to move em,When Malindy sings.She jes' spreads huh mouf and hollahs,"Come to Jesus," twell you hyeahSinnahs' tremblin' steps and voices,Timid-lak a-drawin' neah;Den she tu'ns to "Rock of Ages,"Simply to de cross she clings,An' you fin' yo' teahs a-drappin'When Malindy sings.Who dat says dat humble praisesWif de Master nevah counts?Heish yo' mouf, I hyeah dat music,Ez hit rises up an' mounts—Floatin' by de hills an' valleys,Way above dis buryin' sod,Ez hit makes its way in gloryTo de very gates of God!Oh, hit's sweetah dan de musicOf an edicated band;An' hit's dearah dan de battle'sSong o' triumph in de lan'.It seems holier dan evenin'When de solemn chu'ch bell rings,Ez I sit an' ca'mly listenWhile Malindy sings.Towsah, stop dat ba'kin', hyeah me!Mandy, mek dat chile keep still;Don't you hyeah de echoes callin'F'om de valley to de hill?Let me listen, I can hyeah it,Th'oo de bresh of angels' wings,Sof an' sweet, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,"Ez Malindy sings.
G'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy—Put dat music book away;What's de use to keep on tryin'?Ef you practise twell you 're gray,You cain't sta't no notes a-flyin'Lak de ones dat rants and ringsF'om de kitchen to be big woodsWhen Malindy sings.
G'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy—
Put dat music book away;
What's de use to keep on tryin'?
Ef you practise twell you 're gray,
You cain't sta't no notes a-flyin'
Lak de ones dat rants and rings
F'om de kitchen to be big woods
When Malindy sings.
You ain't got de nachel o'gansFu' to make de soun' come right,You ain't got de tu'ns an' twistin'sFu' to make it sweet an' light.Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy,An' I 'm tellin' you fu' true,When hit comes to raal right singin','T ain't no easy thing to do.
You ain't got de nachel o'gans
Fu' to make de soun' come right,
You ain't got de tu'ns an' twistin's
Fu' to make it sweet an' light.
Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy,
An' I 'm tellin' you fu' true,
When hit comes to raal right singin',
'T ain't no easy thing to do.
Easy 'nough fu' folks to hollah,Lookin' at de lines an' dots,When dey ain't no one kin sence it,An' de chune comes in, in spots;But fu' real melojous music,Dat jes' strikes yo' hea't and clings,Jes' you stan' an' listen wif meWhen Malindy sings.
Easy 'nough fu' folks to hollah,
Lookin' at de lines an' dots,
When dey ain't no one kin sence it,
An' de chune comes in, in spots;
But fu' real melojous music,
Dat jes' strikes yo' hea't and clings,
Jes' you stan' an' listen wif me
When Malindy sings.
Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy?Blessed soul, tek up de cross!Look hyeah, ain't you jokin', honey?Well, you don't know whut you los'.Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa'blin',Robins, la'ks, an' all dem things,Heish dey moufs an' hides dey facesWhen Malindy sings.
Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy?
Blessed soul, tek up de cross!
Look hyeah, ain't you jokin', honey?
Well, you don't know whut you los'.
Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa'blin',
Robins, la'ks, an' all dem things,
Heish dey moufs an' hides dey faces
When Malindy sings.
Fiddlin' man jes' stop his fiddlin',Lay his fiddle on de she'f;Mockin'-bird quit tryin' to whistle,'Cause he jes' so shamed hisse'f.Folks a-playin' on de banjoDraps dey fingahs on de strings—Bless yo' soul—fu'gits to move em,When Malindy sings.
Fiddlin' man jes' stop his fiddlin',
Lay his fiddle on de she'f;
Mockin'-bird quit tryin' to whistle,
'Cause he jes' so shamed hisse'f.
Folks a-playin' on de banjo
Draps dey fingahs on de strings—
Bless yo' soul—fu'gits to move em,
When Malindy sings.
She jes' spreads huh mouf and hollahs,"Come to Jesus," twell you hyeahSinnahs' tremblin' steps and voices,Timid-lak a-drawin' neah;Den she tu'ns to "Rock of Ages,"Simply to de cross she clings,An' you fin' yo' teahs a-drappin'When Malindy sings.
She jes' spreads huh mouf and hollahs,
"Come to Jesus," twell you hyeah
Sinnahs' tremblin' steps and voices,
Timid-lak a-drawin' neah;
Den she tu'ns to "Rock of Ages,"
Simply to de cross she clings,
An' you fin' yo' teahs a-drappin'
When Malindy sings.
Who dat says dat humble praisesWif de Master nevah counts?Heish yo' mouf, I hyeah dat music,Ez hit rises up an' mounts—Floatin' by de hills an' valleys,Way above dis buryin' sod,Ez hit makes its way in gloryTo de very gates of God!
Who dat says dat humble praises
Wif de Master nevah counts?
Heish yo' mouf, I hyeah dat music,
Ez hit rises up an' mounts—
Floatin' by de hills an' valleys,
Way above dis buryin' sod,
Ez hit makes its way in glory
To de very gates of God!
Oh, hit's sweetah dan de musicOf an edicated band;An' hit's dearah dan de battle'sSong o' triumph in de lan'.It seems holier dan evenin'When de solemn chu'ch bell rings,Ez I sit an' ca'mly listenWhile Malindy sings.
Oh, hit's sweetah dan de music
Of an edicated band;
An' hit's dearah dan de battle's
Song o' triumph in de lan'.
It seems holier dan evenin'
When de solemn chu'ch bell rings,
Ez I sit an' ca'mly listen
While Malindy sings.
Towsah, stop dat ba'kin', hyeah me!Mandy, mek dat chile keep still;Don't you hyeah de echoes callin'F'om de valley to de hill?Let me listen, I can hyeah it,Th'oo de bresh of angels' wings,Sof an' sweet, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,"Ez Malindy sings.
Towsah, stop dat ba'kin', hyeah me!
Mandy, mek dat chile keep still;
Don't you hyeah de echoes callin'
F'om de valley to de hill?
Let me listen, I can hyeah it,
Th'oo de bresh of angels' wings,
Sof an' sweet, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,"
Ez Malindy sings.
THE PARTYDey had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;Was I dah? You bet! I nevah in my life see sich a sight;All de folks f'om fou' plantations was invited, an' dey come,Dey come troopin' thick ez chillun when dey hyeahs a fife an' drum.Evahbody dressed deir fines'—Heish yo' mouf an' git away,Ain't seen no sich fancy dressin' sence las' quah'tly meetin' day;Gals all dressed in silks an' satins, not a wrinkle ner a crease,Eyes a-battin', teeth a-shinin', haih breshed back ez slick ez grease;Sku'ts all tucked an' puffed an' ruffled, evah blessed seam an' stitch;Ef you 'd seen 'em wif deir mistus, could n't swahed to which was which.Men all dressed up in Prince Alberts, swaller-tails 'u'd tek yo' bref!I cain't tell you nothin' 'bout it, y' ought to seen it fu' yo'se'f.Who was dah? Now who you askin'? How you 'spect I gwine to know?You mus' think I stood an' counted evahbody at de do.'Ole man Babah's house-boy Isaac, brung dat gal, Malindy Jane,Huh a-hangin' to his elbow, him a-struttin' wif a cane;My, but Hahvey Jones was jealous! seemed to stick him lak a tho'n;But he laughed with Viney Cahteh, tryin' ha'd to not let on,But a pusson would 'a' noticed f'om de d'rection of his look,Dat he was watchin' ev'ry step dat Ike an' Lindy took.Ike he foun' a cheer an' asked huh: "Won't you set down?" wif a smile,An' she answe'd up a-bowin', "Oh, I reckon 't ain't wuth while."Dat was jes' fu' Style, I reckon, 'cause she sot down jes' de same,An' she stayed dah 'twell he fetched huh fu' to jine some so't o' game;Den I hyeahd huh sayin' propah, ez she riz to go away,"Oh, you raly mus' excuse me, fu' I hardly keers to play."But I seen huh in a minute wif de othahs on de flo',An' dah wasn't any one o' dem a-playin' any mo';Comin' down de flo' a-bowin' an' a-swayin' an' a-swingin',Puttin' on huh high-toned mannahs all de time dat she was singin':"Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',Swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun'Fa' you well, my dahlin'."Had to laff at ole man Johnson, he 's a caution now, you bet—Hittin' clost onto a hunderd, but he 's spry an' nimble yet;He 'lowed how a-so't o' gigglin', "I ain't ole, I 'll let you see,D'ain't no use in gittin' feeble, now you youngstahs jes' watch me,"An' he grabbed ole Aunt Marier—weighs th'ee hunderd mo' er less,An' he spun huh 'roun' de cabin swingin' Johnny lak de res'.Evahbody laffed an' hollahed: "Go it! Swing huh, Uncle Jim!"An' he swung huh too, I reckon, lak a youngstah, who but him.Dat was bettah 'n young Scott Thomas, tryin' to be so awful smaht.You know when dey gits to singin' an' dey comes to dat ere paht:"In some lady's new brick house,In some lady's gyahden.Ef you don't let me out, I will jump out,So fa' you well, my dahlin'."Den dey 's got a circle 'roun' you, an' you's got to break de line;Well, dat dahky was so anxious, lak to bust hisse'f a-tryin';Kep' on blund'rin' 'roun' an' foolin' 'twell he giv' one gread big jump,Broke de line, an lit head-fo'most in de fiah-place right plump;Hit 'ad fiah in it, mind you; well, I thought my soul I 'd bust,Tried my best to keep f'om laffin', but hit seemed like die I must!Y' ought to seen dat man a-scramblin' f'om de ashes an' de grime.Did it bu'n him! Sich a question, why he did n't give it time;Th'ow'd dem ashes and dem cindahs evah which-a-way I guess,An' you nevah did, I reckon, clap yo' eyes on sich a mess;Fu' he sholy made a picter an' a funny one to boot,Wif his clothes all full o' ashes an' his face all full o' soot.Well, hit laked to stopped de pahty, an' I reckon lak ez notDat it would ef Tom's wife, Mandy, had n't happened on de spot,To invite us out to suppah—well, we scrambled to de table,An' I 'd lak to tell you 'bout it—what we had—but I ain't able,Mention jes' a few things, dough I know I had n't orter,Fu' I know 't will staht a hank'rin' an' yo' mouf 'll 'mence to worter.We had wheat bread white ez cotton an' a egg pone jes like gol',Hog jole, bilin' hot an' steamin' roasted shoat an' ham sliced cold—Look out! What's de mattah wif you? Don't be fallin' on de flo';Ef it 's go'n' to 'fect you dat way, I won't tell you nothin' mo'.Dah now—well, we had hot chittlin's—now you 's tryin' ag'in to fall,Cain't you stan' to hyeah about it? S'pose you'd been an' seed it all;Seed dem gread big sweet pertaters, layin' by de possum's side,Seed dat coon in all his gravy, reckon den you 'd up and died!Mandy 'lowed "you all mus' 'scuse me, d' wa'n't much upon my she'ves,But I's done my bes' to suit you, so set down an' he'p yo'se'ves."Tom, he 'lowed: "I don't b'lieve in 'pologisin' an' perfessin',Let 'em tek it lak dey ketch it. Eldah Thompson, ask de blessin'."Wish you 'd seed dat colo'ed preachah cleah his th'oat an' bow his head;One eye shet, an' one eye open,—dis is evah wud he said:"Lawd, look down in tendah mussy on sich generous hea'ts ez dese;Make us truly thankful, amen. Pass dat possum, ef you please!"Well, we eat and drunk ouah po'tion, 'twell dah was n't nothin' lef,An' we felt jes' like new sausage, we was mos' nigh stuffed to def!Tom, he knowed how we 'd be feelin', so he had de fiddlah 'roun',An' he made us cleah de cabin fu' to dance dat suppah down.Jim, de fiddlah, chuned his fiddle, put some rosum on his bow,Set a pine box on de table, mounted it an' let huh go!He's a fiddlah, now I tell you, an' he made dat fiddle ring,'Twell de ol'est an' de lamest had to give deir feet a fling.Jigs, cotillions, reels an' breakdowns, cordrills an' a waltz er two;Bless yo' soul, dat music winged 'em an' dem people lak to flew.Cripple Joe, de old rheumatic, danced dat flo' f'om side to middle,Th'owed away his crutch an' hopped it; what's rheumatics 'ginst a fiddle?Eldah Thompson got so tickled dat he lak to los' his grace,Had to tek bofe feet an' hol' dem so 's to keep 'em in deir place.An' de Christuns an' de sinnahs got so mixed up on dat flo',Dat I don't see how dey 'd pahted ef de trump had chanced to blow.Well, we danced dat way an' capahed in de mos' redic'lous way,'Twell de roostahs in de bahnyard cleahed deir th'oats an' crowed fu' day.Y' ought to been dah, fu' I tell you evahthing was rich an' prime,An' dey ain't no use in talkin', we jes had one scrumptious time!
Dey had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;Was I dah? You bet! I nevah in my life see sich a sight;All de folks f'om fou' plantations was invited, an' dey come,Dey come troopin' thick ez chillun when dey hyeahs a fife an' drum.Evahbody dressed deir fines'—Heish yo' mouf an' git away,Ain't seen no sich fancy dressin' sence las' quah'tly meetin' day;Gals all dressed in silks an' satins, not a wrinkle ner a crease,Eyes a-battin', teeth a-shinin', haih breshed back ez slick ez grease;Sku'ts all tucked an' puffed an' ruffled, evah blessed seam an' stitch;Ef you 'd seen 'em wif deir mistus, could n't swahed to which was which.Men all dressed up in Prince Alberts, swaller-tails 'u'd tek yo' bref!I cain't tell you nothin' 'bout it, y' ought to seen it fu' yo'se'f.Who was dah? Now who you askin'? How you 'spect I gwine to know?You mus' think I stood an' counted evahbody at de do.'Ole man Babah's house-boy Isaac, brung dat gal, Malindy Jane,Huh a-hangin' to his elbow, him a-struttin' wif a cane;My, but Hahvey Jones was jealous! seemed to stick him lak a tho'n;But he laughed with Viney Cahteh, tryin' ha'd to not let on,But a pusson would 'a' noticed f'om de d'rection of his look,Dat he was watchin' ev'ry step dat Ike an' Lindy took.Ike he foun' a cheer an' asked huh: "Won't you set down?" wif a smile,An' she answe'd up a-bowin', "Oh, I reckon 't ain't wuth while."Dat was jes' fu' Style, I reckon, 'cause she sot down jes' de same,An' she stayed dah 'twell he fetched huh fu' to jine some so't o' game;Den I hyeahd huh sayin' propah, ez she riz to go away,"Oh, you raly mus' excuse me, fu' I hardly keers to play."But I seen huh in a minute wif de othahs on de flo',An' dah wasn't any one o' dem a-playin' any mo';Comin' down de flo' a-bowin' an' a-swayin' an' a-swingin',Puttin' on huh high-toned mannahs all de time dat she was singin':"Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',Swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun'Fa' you well, my dahlin'."Had to laff at ole man Johnson, he 's a caution now, you bet—Hittin' clost onto a hunderd, but he 's spry an' nimble yet;He 'lowed how a-so't o' gigglin', "I ain't ole, I 'll let you see,D'ain't no use in gittin' feeble, now you youngstahs jes' watch me,"An' he grabbed ole Aunt Marier—weighs th'ee hunderd mo' er less,An' he spun huh 'roun' de cabin swingin' Johnny lak de res'.Evahbody laffed an' hollahed: "Go it! Swing huh, Uncle Jim!"An' he swung huh too, I reckon, lak a youngstah, who but him.Dat was bettah 'n young Scott Thomas, tryin' to be so awful smaht.You know when dey gits to singin' an' dey comes to dat ere paht:"In some lady's new brick house,In some lady's gyahden.Ef you don't let me out, I will jump out,So fa' you well, my dahlin'."Den dey 's got a circle 'roun' you, an' you's got to break de line;Well, dat dahky was so anxious, lak to bust hisse'f a-tryin';Kep' on blund'rin' 'roun' an' foolin' 'twell he giv' one gread big jump,Broke de line, an lit head-fo'most in de fiah-place right plump;Hit 'ad fiah in it, mind you; well, I thought my soul I 'd bust,Tried my best to keep f'om laffin', but hit seemed like die I must!Y' ought to seen dat man a-scramblin' f'om de ashes an' de grime.Did it bu'n him! Sich a question, why he did n't give it time;Th'ow'd dem ashes and dem cindahs evah which-a-way I guess,An' you nevah did, I reckon, clap yo' eyes on sich a mess;Fu' he sholy made a picter an' a funny one to boot,Wif his clothes all full o' ashes an' his face all full o' soot.Well, hit laked to stopped de pahty, an' I reckon lak ez notDat it would ef Tom's wife, Mandy, had n't happened on de spot,To invite us out to suppah—well, we scrambled to de table,An' I 'd lak to tell you 'bout it—what we had—but I ain't able,Mention jes' a few things, dough I know I had n't orter,Fu' I know 't will staht a hank'rin' an' yo' mouf 'll 'mence to worter.We had wheat bread white ez cotton an' a egg pone jes like gol',Hog jole, bilin' hot an' steamin' roasted shoat an' ham sliced cold—Look out! What's de mattah wif you? Don't be fallin' on de flo';Ef it 's go'n' to 'fect you dat way, I won't tell you nothin' mo'.Dah now—well, we had hot chittlin's—now you 's tryin' ag'in to fall,Cain't you stan' to hyeah about it? S'pose you'd been an' seed it all;Seed dem gread big sweet pertaters, layin' by de possum's side,Seed dat coon in all his gravy, reckon den you 'd up and died!Mandy 'lowed "you all mus' 'scuse me, d' wa'n't much upon my she'ves,But I's done my bes' to suit you, so set down an' he'p yo'se'ves."Tom, he 'lowed: "I don't b'lieve in 'pologisin' an' perfessin',Let 'em tek it lak dey ketch it. Eldah Thompson, ask de blessin'."Wish you 'd seed dat colo'ed preachah cleah his th'oat an' bow his head;One eye shet, an' one eye open,—dis is evah wud he said:"Lawd, look down in tendah mussy on sich generous hea'ts ez dese;Make us truly thankful, amen. Pass dat possum, ef you please!"Well, we eat and drunk ouah po'tion, 'twell dah was n't nothin' lef,An' we felt jes' like new sausage, we was mos' nigh stuffed to def!Tom, he knowed how we 'd be feelin', so he had de fiddlah 'roun',An' he made us cleah de cabin fu' to dance dat suppah down.Jim, de fiddlah, chuned his fiddle, put some rosum on his bow,Set a pine box on de table, mounted it an' let huh go!He's a fiddlah, now I tell you, an' he made dat fiddle ring,'Twell de ol'est an' de lamest had to give deir feet a fling.Jigs, cotillions, reels an' breakdowns, cordrills an' a waltz er two;Bless yo' soul, dat music winged 'em an' dem people lak to flew.Cripple Joe, de old rheumatic, danced dat flo' f'om side to middle,Th'owed away his crutch an' hopped it; what's rheumatics 'ginst a fiddle?Eldah Thompson got so tickled dat he lak to los' his grace,Had to tek bofe feet an' hol' dem so 's to keep 'em in deir place.An' de Christuns an' de sinnahs got so mixed up on dat flo',Dat I don't see how dey 'd pahted ef de trump had chanced to blow.Well, we danced dat way an' capahed in de mos' redic'lous way,'Twell de roostahs in de bahnyard cleahed deir th'oats an' crowed fu' day.Y' ought to been dah, fu' I tell you evahthing was rich an' prime,An' dey ain't no use in talkin', we jes had one scrumptious time!
Dey had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;
Was I dah? You bet! I nevah in my life see sich a sight;
All de folks f'om fou' plantations was invited, an' dey come,
Dey come troopin' thick ez chillun when dey hyeahs a fife an' drum.
Evahbody dressed deir fines'—Heish yo' mouf an' git away,
Ain't seen no sich fancy dressin' sence las' quah'tly meetin' day;
Gals all dressed in silks an' satins, not a wrinkle ner a crease,
Eyes a-battin', teeth a-shinin', haih breshed back ez slick ez grease;
Sku'ts all tucked an' puffed an' ruffled, evah blessed seam an' stitch;
Ef you 'd seen 'em wif deir mistus, could n't swahed to which was which.
Men all dressed up in Prince Alberts, swaller-tails 'u'd tek yo' bref!
I cain't tell you nothin' 'bout it, y' ought to seen it fu' yo'se'f.
Who was dah? Now who you askin'? How you 'spect I gwine to know?
You mus' think I stood an' counted evahbody at de do.'
Ole man Babah's house-boy Isaac, brung dat gal, Malindy Jane,
Huh a-hangin' to his elbow, him a-struttin' wif a cane;
My, but Hahvey Jones was jealous! seemed to stick him lak a tho'n;
But he laughed with Viney Cahteh, tryin' ha'd to not let on,
But a pusson would 'a' noticed f'om de d'rection of his look,
Dat he was watchin' ev'ry step dat Ike an' Lindy took.
Ike he foun' a cheer an' asked huh: "Won't you set down?" wif a smile,
An' she answe'd up a-bowin', "Oh, I reckon 't ain't wuth while."
Dat was jes' fu' Style, I reckon, 'cause she sot down jes' de same,
An' she stayed dah 'twell he fetched huh fu' to jine some so't o' game;
Den I hyeahd huh sayin' propah, ez she riz to go away,
"Oh, you raly mus' excuse me, fu' I hardly keers to play."
But I seen huh in a minute wif de othahs on de flo',
An' dah wasn't any one o' dem a-playin' any mo';
Comin' down de flo' a-bowin' an' a-swayin' an' a-swingin',
Puttin' on huh high-toned mannahs all de time dat she was singin':
"Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',
Swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',
Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun'
Fa' you well, my dahlin'."
Had to laff at ole man Johnson, he 's a caution now, you bet—
Hittin' clost onto a hunderd, but he 's spry an' nimble yet;
He 'lowed how a-so't o' gigglin', "I ain't ole, I 'll let you see,
D'ain't no use in gittin' feeble, now you youngstahs jes' watch me,"
An' he grabbed ole Aunt Marier—weighs th'ee hunderd mo' er less,
An' he spun huh 'roun' de cabin swingin' Johnny lak de res'.
Evahbody laffed an' hollahed: "Go it! Swing huh, Uncle Jim!"
An' he swung huh too, I reckon, lak a youngstah, who but him.
Dat was bettah 'n young Scott Thomas, tryin' to be so awful smaht.
You know when dey gits to singin' an' dey comes to dat ere paht:
"In some lady's new brick house,
In some lady's gyahden.
Ef you don't let me out, I will jump out,
So fa' you well, my dahlin'."
Den dey 's got a circle 'roun' you, an' you's got to break de line;
Well, dat dahky was so anxious, lak to bust hisse'f a-tryin';
Kep' on blund'rin' 'roun' an' foolin' 'twell he giv' one gread big jump,
Broke de line, an lit head-fo'most in de fiah-place right plump;
Hit 'ad fiah in it, mind you; well, I thought my soul I 'd bust,
Tried my best to keep f'om laffin', but hit seemed like die I must!
Y' ought to seen dat man a-scramblin' f'om de ashes an' de grime.
Did it bu'n him! Sich a question, why he did n't give it time;
Th'ow'd dem ashes and dem cindahs evah which-a-way I guess,
An' you nevah did, I reckon, clap yo' eyes on sich a mess;
Fu' he sholy made a picter an' a funny one to boot,
Wif his clothes all full o' ashes an' his face all full o' soot.
Well, hit laked to stopped de pahty, an' I reckon lak ez not
Dat it would ef Tom's wife, Mandy, had n't happened on de spot,
To invite us out to suppah—well, we scrambled to de table,
An' I 'd lak to tell you 'bout it—what we had—but I ain't able,
Mention jes' a few things, dough I know I had n't orter,
Fu' I know 't will staht a hank'rin' an' yo' mouf 'll 'mence to worter.
We had wheat bread white ez cotton an' a egg pone jes like gol',
Hog jole, bilin' hot an' steamin' roasted shoat an' ham sliced cold—
Look out! What's de mattah wif you? Don't be fallin' on de flo';
Ef it 's go'n' to 'fect you dat way, I won't tell you nothin' mo'.
Dah now—well, we had hot chittlin's—now you 's tryin' ag'in to fall,
Cain't you stan' to hyeah about it? S'pose you'd been an' seed it all;
Seed dem gread big sweet pertaters, layin' by de possum's side,
Seed dat coon in all his gravy, reckon den you 'd up and died!
Mandy 'lowed "you all mus' 'scuse me, d' wa'n't much upon my she'ves,
But I's done my bes' to suit you, so set down an' he'p yo'se'ves."
Tom, he 'lowed: "I don't b'lieve in 'pologisin' an' perfessin',
Let 'em tek it lak dey ketch it. Eldah Thompson, ask de blessin'."
Wish you 'd seed dat colo'ed preachah cleah his th'oat an' bow his head;
One eye shet, an' one eye open,—dis is evah wud he said:
"Lawd, look down in tendah mussy on sich generous hea'ts ez dese;
Make us truly thankful, amen. Pass dat possum, ef you please!"
Well, we eat and drunk ouah po'tion, 'twell dah was n't nothin' lef,
An' we felt jes' like new sausage, we was mos' nigh stuffed to def!
Tom, he knowed how we 'd be feelin', so he had de fiddlah 'roun',
An' he made us cleah de cabin fu' to dance dat suppah down.
Jim, de fiddlah, chuned his fiddle, put some rosum on his bow,
Set a pine box on de table, mounted it an' let huh go!
He's a fiddlah, now I tell you, an' he made dat fiddle ring,
'Twell de ol'est an' de lamest had to give deir feet a fling.
Jigs, cotillions, reels an' breakdowns, cordrills an' a waltz er two;
Bless yo' soul, dat music winged 'em an' dem people lak to flew.
Cripple Joe, de old rheumatic, danced dat flo' f'om side to middle,
Th'owed away his crutch an' hopped it; what's rheumatics 'ginst a fiddle?
Eldah Thompson got so tickled dat he lak to los' his grace,
Had to tek bofe feet an' hol' dem so 's to keep 'em in deir place.
An' de Christuns an' de sinnahs got so mixed up on dat flo',
Dat I don't see how dey 'd pahted ef de trump had chanced to blow.
Well, we danced dat way an' capahed in de mos' redic'lous way,
'Twell de roostahs in de bahnyard cleahed deir th'oats an' crowed fu' day.
Y' ought to been dah, fu' I tell you evahthing was rich an' prime,
An' dey ain't no use in talkin', we jes had one scrumptious time!
LOVE'S APOTHEOSISLove me. I care not what the circling yearsTo me may do.If, but in spite of time and tears,You prove but true.Love me—albeit grief shall dim mine eyes,And tears bedew,I shall not e'en complain, for then my skiesShall still be blue.Love me, and though the winter snow shall pile,And leave me chill,Thy passion's warmth shall make for me, meanwhile,A sun-kissed hill.And when the days have lengthened into years,And I grow old,Oh, spite of pains and griefs and cares and fears,Grow thou not cold.Then hand and hand we shall pass up the hill,I say not down;That twain go up, of love, who 've loved their fill,—To gain love's crown.Love me, and let my life take up thine own,As sun the dew.Come, sit, my queen, for in my heart a throneAwaits for you!
Love me. I care not what the circling yearsTo me may do.If, but in spite of time and tears,You prove but true.
Love me. I care not what the circling years
To me may do.
If, but in spite of time and tears,
You prove but true.
Love me—albeit grief shall dim mine eyes,And tears bedew,I shall not e'en complain, for then my skiesShall still be blue.
Love me—albeit grief shall dim mine eyes,
And tears bedew,
I shall not e'en complain, for then my skies
Shall still be blue.
Love me, and though the winter snow shall pile,And leave me chill,Thy passion's warmth shall make for me, meanwhile,A sun-kissed hill.
Love me, and though the winter snow shall pile,
And leave me chill,
Thy passion's warmth shall make for me, meanwhile,
A sun-kissed hill.
And when the days have lengthened into years,And I grow old,Oh, spite of pains and griefs and cares and fears,Grow thou not cold.
And when the days have lengthened into years,
And I grow old,
Oh, spite of pains and griefs and cares and fears,
Grow thou not cold.
Then hand and hand we shall pass up the hill,I say not down;That twain go up, of love, who 've loved their fill,—To gain love's crown.
Then hand and hand we shall pass up the hill,
I say not down;
That twain go up, of love, who 've loved their fill,—
To gain love's crown.
Love me, and let my life take up thine own,As sun the dew.Come, sit, my queen, for in my heart a throneAwaits for you!
Love me, and let my life take up thine own,
As sun the dew.
Come, sit, my queen, for in my heart a throne
Awaits for you!
THE PARADOXI am the mother of sorrows,I am the ender of grief;I am the bud and the blossom,I am the late-falling leaf.I am thy priest and thy poet,I am thy serf and thy king;I cure the tears of the heartsick,When I come near they shall sing.White are my hands as the snowdrop;Swart are my fingers as clay;Dark is my frown as the midnight,Fair is my brow as the day.Battle and war are my minions,Doing my will as divine;I am the calmer of passions,Peace is a nursling of mine.Speak to me gently or curse me,Seek me or fly from my sight;I am thy fool in the morning,Thou art my slave in the night.Down to the grave will I take thee,Out from the noise of the strife;Then shalt thou see me and know me—Death, then, no longer, but life.Then shalt thou sing at my coming.Kiss me with passionate breath,Clasp me and smile to have thought meAught save the foeman of Death.Come to me, brother, when weary,Come when thy lonely heart swells;I 'll guide thy footsteps and lead theeDown where the Dream Woman dwells.
I am the mother of sorrows,I am the ender of grief;I am the bud and the blossom,I am the late-falling leaf.
I am the mother of sorrows,
I am the ender of grief;
I am the bud and the blossom,
I am the late-falling leaf.
I am thy priest and thy poet,I am thy serf and thy king;I cure the tears of the heartsick,When I come near they shall sing.
I am thy priest and thy poet,
I am thy serf and thy king;
I cure the tears of the heartsick,
When I come near they shall sing.
White are my hands as the snowdrop;Swart are my fingers as clay;Dark is my frown as the midnight,Fair is my brow as the day.
White are my hands as the snowdrop;
Swart are my fingers as clay;
Dark is my frown as the midnight,
Fair is my brow as the day.
Battle and war are my minions,Doing my will as divine;I am the calmer of passions,Peace is a nursling of mine.
Battle and war are my minions,
Doing my will as divine;
I am the calmer of passions,
Peace is a nursling of mine.
Speak to me gently or curse me,Seek me or fly from my sight;I am thy fool in the morning,Thou art my slave in the night.
Speak to me gently or curse me,
Seek me or fly from my sight;
I am thy fool in the morning,
Thou art my slave in the night.
Down to the grave will I take thee,Out from the noise of the strife;Then shalt thou see me and know me—Death, then, no longer, but life.
Down to the grave will I take thee,
Out from the noise of the strife;
Then shalt thou see me and know me—
Death, then, no longer, but life.
Then shalt thou sing at my coming.Kiss me with passionate breath,Clasp me and smile to have thought meAught save the foeman of Death.
Then shalt thou sing at my coming.
Kiss me with passionate breath,
Clasp me and smile to have thought me
Aught save the foeman of Death.
Come to me, brother, when weary,Come when thy lonely heart swells;I 'll guide thy footsteps and lead theeDown where the Dream Woman dwells.
Come to me, brother, when weary,
Come when thy lonely heart swells;
I 'll guide thy footsteps and lead thee
Down where the Dream Woman dwells.