Darkey Ways in Dixie Part 7

Jeff's Funeral Sermon.

Git my mou'nin' dress, Susanah, Out de bottom draw';-- It bin waitin' long time wid Dis black hat ob straw, Fo' de preacher ter come by En preach Jeff up ter de sky.

Jeff done pa.s.s away befo' us Des six months ter-day; But it don't seem long ez dat (How time pa.s.s away!) Since dey laid dat po' boy down In de churchyard's holy groun'.

Yestiday when I ast Missus Let me go ter-day Ter Jeff's fun'ral, she so s'prised Till she up en say: "Sakes! dey bury him, you know, Las' yeah, long en long ago!"

En I tell her dat de people Libin fur frum home, Couldn't heah dat he wus gone, En dey want ter come; So we wait till news wus spread Ebrywhar dat he wus dead.

En we 'vite so many people Frum de country roun', Dat dar'll be a sight ob n.i.g.g.e.rs At dat church, I'm boun'; So we better be gwine on, Kaze we set wid dem dat mou'n.

Uncle Bob to his Dog.

Uncle Bob say ter his dog, Leo: "You tangle yo'se'f in my heart-strings, sho, But de day gwine come when you got ter go, Kaze I ain't got a dollar Ter buy you a collar, En de dog-ketcher ketch you, sho."

Uncle Bob say: "I dervide my bread, En I kiver you up in my nice, straw bed, But I sca'ed dat my dog gwine soon be dead, Kaze I ain't got a dollar Ter buy you a collar, En de dog-ketcher ketch you, sho."

Uncle Bob say: "Oh, de stolen am sweet, En dat why you clim' frue de fence ter de street, Do I already tol' you de en' you gwine meet!

Kaze I ain't got a dollar Ter buy you a collar, En de dog-ketcher ketch you, sho."

A Prophecy.

Sho ez dat dar sun on high Shine on me ter-day, Dar gwine be a riber-rise, Lis'n what I say!

'Fo'e de summer am done pas'

Dat dar Congaree Am gwine over-flow dem banks, Rushin' ter de sea.

I does closely watch de signs, En de wasp, fo' true, Biuldin' higher up dis yeah Dan she mos'ly do.

By dat nes', so safe en high, She done say ter me; "Dar gwine be a rise dis yeah Ob de Congaree."

Possum en Pertaters.

De pe'simmons in de pastur' am a-fallin', fallin' down, En de sweet pertaters waitin' ter be dug frum out de groun'; Dat dey good de possum know, En he fatten on 'em, sho!

En I tas'e his juice ter-morrer, else I neber tas'e it mo'.

Bring de light-wood torch, Horiah, en don't creep so slow erlong; Lif' yo' lazy feet up faster, so dey keep time ter dis song: "Mr. Possum, hear me say, 'Tain't no use ter run away, Kaze I sho gwine ketch en bleed you 'fo'e de breakin' ob de day!

Dem two dogs already trace him ter de big pe'simmon tree, En I see dem eyes ob his'n shinin' down lak stars at me.

He for sho am perch up high, But I git him, by en by, En dat feas' I hab to-morrer beat de fines' chicken pie.

I done grab him by de neck, en I comin' down agin, En de weight ob him do tell me he am fur frum bein' thin; En he droop hisse'f en play Dat he dead en pa.s.s away, Do he know dat if I loose him he gwine mighty soon be gay.

He am sho a fine one, en I proud ter take him home, En de mammy en de chillun wake ter see him when he come; En I singe his tender hide Till it look lak it done fried, Den I try ter go ter sleep, but my eyes stay open wide.

Oh, my eyes stay open wide, till de breakin' ob de day, When de long, long night oh waitin' am at las' done pa.s.s away; En I go outside en scratch Sweet pertaters frum de patch, Kaze wid juices ob de possum dey ain't nothin' else ter match.

When we bake dat critter brown, wid pertaters stuff inside, Den we say: "Oh, hasten, n.i.g.g.e.r, ez de bridegroom ter de bride!"

Come en dine wid us ter-day, En we know dat you gwine stay Till de las ob dat good possum am done hid frum sight away.

Cotton's Comin' In.

Bet de goldenrod's a-bloomin'

'Long de country roads; Bet de hick'ry nuts am fallin'

By de loads en loads.

Bet pe'simmons am mos' ripe-- Makes a feller grin!

What's de sign? Why, man alive, Cotton's comin' in!

Bet ole Pete am busy now Bilin' sorghum down; Bet dey'll hab a pullin' soon-- 'Vite me frum de town; Bet de apple's dryin' on Chiny plates en tin, Bet all dis, en mo', des kaze Cotton's comin' in.

Bet de rice am hangin' now Head down in de sun; Bet ole Ma.s.sa's habin' times Wid his rod en gun; Wish I'd staid dar in de woods-- Town's chuck full ob sin, En I sho git homesick when Cotton's comin' in.

Bet de pinders spread out on De ole shed ter dry; Bet de possum know de way Ter de tree-top high.

Soon dem darkies put away 'Taters in de bin;-- Lan'! I's gwine back when Pete Brings his cotton in!

Dat Yaller Gal.

I bin watchin' you, big Jim, En I s'prised, fo' sho; You is done fo'git mos' all Dat you eber know.

Dar you wus, at de cake-walk, Makin' eyes at Sue, When you orter know dat gal Ain't gwine look at you.

Yo' hair curl on top yo' head Lak sheep's wool, fo' sho, En yo' skin am des ez black Ez de blackes' crow.

Ebry time you pa.s.s dat gal She stick up her nose, En draw back, des lak she sca'ed You gwine touch her clo'es.

Think she am too good ter speak Ter a coal-black man What, ez ebrybody know, Do de bes' he kin, Kaze her skin ain't black lak yourn, En her hair ain't wool, She ac' lak she am de queen-- Sick'nin' yaller fool!

Ebry day she com' dat hair Lak de white folks do; Pin it back wid fine hair-pins, Shinin lak bran' new; En she go erlong de street Holding her head high, Lak she neber see her race When dey pa.s.s her by.

Us dat am de n.i.g.g.e.rs right-- Us don't ac' lak dat!

When we com' our hair we make Heah en dar a plait; En we wrap 'em good wid cord So dey sho gwine stay Right in place a week or mo'

Frum de com'in' day.

En we don't pa.s.s cullud folks Wid our head up high, But we stop en speak wid dem 'Fo'e we pa.s.s on by.

En we as' 'em: "How you do?

How's de folks at home?"

En we tell 'em whar we live, Sayin' "You mus' come."

I's bin watchin' you, big Jim, En I's s'prised, fo' sho; Ez I sed, you is fo'got All you eber know.

If you's got good sense you'll quit Makin' eyes at Sue, Kaze dat stuck-up yaller gal Ain't gwine look at you.

To Walk Wid His Gal.

Dem gals stan' erbout, en giggle en grin; Dey say: "His shoes shine' lak a bran' new pin!"

En de way dat dey treat him am sholy a sin, When John go ter walk wid his gal.