Negro Folk Rhymes Part 12

I wus so tired an' hongry, man, dat I couldn' wuk my jaw.

Fer I hadn't had no decent grub since I lef' ole Arkansaw.

Her bread wus hard corndodgers; dat meat, I couldn' chaw.

Her bread wus hard corndodgers; dat meat, I couldn' chaw.

You see; dat's de way de Hoosiers feeds way out in Arkansaw.

THE NEGRO AND THE POLICEMAN

"Oh Mistah Policeman, tu'n me loose; Hain't got no money but a good excuse."

Oh h.e.l.lo, Sarah Jane!

Dat ole Policeman treat me mean, He make me wa'k to Bowlin' Green.

Oh h.e.l.lo, Sarah Jane!

De way he treat me wus a shame.

He make me wear dat Ball an' Chain.

Oh h.e.l.lo, Sarah Jane!

I runs to de river, I can't git 'cross; Dat Police grab me an' swim lak a hoss.

Oh h.e.l.lo, Sarah Jane!

I goes up town to git me a gun, Dat ole Police sho' make me run.

Oh h.e.l.lo, Sarah Jane!

I goes crosstown sorter walkin' wid a hump An' dat ole Police sho' make me jump.

Oh h.e.l.lo, Sarah Jane!

Sarah Jane, is dat yo' name?

Us boys, we calls you Sarah Jane.

Well, h.e.l.lo, Sarah Jane!

HAM BEATS ALL MEAT

Dem white folks set up in a Dinin' Room An' dey charve dat mutton an' lam'.

De n.i.g.g.e.r, he set 'hind de kitchen door, An' he eat up de good sweet ham.

Dem white folks, dey set up an' look so fine, An' dey eats dat ole cow meat; But de n.i.g.g.e.r grin an' he don't say much, Still he know how to git what's sweet.

Deir ginger cakes taste right good sometimes, An' deir Cobblers an' deir jam.

But fer every day an' Sunday too, Jest gimme de good sweet ham.

Ham beats all meat, Always good an' sweet.

Ham beats all meat, I'se always ready to eat.

You can bake it, bile it, fry it, stew it, An' still it's de good sweet ham.

SUZE ANN

Yes: I loves dat gal wid a blue dress on, Dat de white folks calls Suze Ann.

She's jes' dat gal what stole my heart, 'Way down in Alabam'.

But: She loves a n.i.g.g.e.r about nineteen, Wid his lips all painted red; Wid a liddle fuz around his mouf; An' no brains in his head.

Now: Looky, looky Eas'! Oh, looky, looky Wes'!

I'se been down to ole Lou'zan'; Still dat ar gal I loves de bes'

Is de gal what's named Suze Ann.

Oh, head 'er! Head 'er! Ketch 'er!

Jump up an' [23]"Jubal Jew."

Fer de Banger Picker's sayin': He hain't got nothin' to do.

[23] Jubal Jew is a kind of dance step.

WALK TOM WILSON

Ole Tom Wilson, he had 'im a hoss; His legs so long he couldn' git 'em 'cross.

He laid up dar lak a bag o' meal, An' he spur him in de flank wid his toenail heel.

Ole Tom Wilson, he come an' he go, Frum cabin to cabin in de county-o.

W'en he go to bed, his legs hang do'n, An' his foots makes poles fer de chickens t' roost on.

Tom went down to de river, an' he couldn' go 'cross.

Tom tromp on a 'gater an' 'e think 'e wus a hoss.

Wid a mouf wide open, 'gater jump from de san', An' dat n.i.g.g.e.r look clean down to de Promus' Lan'.

Wa'k Tom Wilson, git out'n de way!

Wa'k Tom Wilson, don't wait all de day!

Wa'k Tom Wilson, here afternoon; Sweep dat kitchen wid a bran' new broom.

CHICKEN PIE

If you wants to make an ole n.i.g.g.e.r feel good, Let me tell you w'at to do: Jes take off a chicken from dat chicken roost, An' take 'im along wid you.

Take a liddle dough to roll 'im up in, An' it'll make you wink yo' eye; Wen dat good smell gits up yo' nose, Frum dat home-made chicken pie.

Jes go round w'en de night's sorter dark, An' dem chickens, dey can't see.

Be sh.o.r.e dat de bad dog's all tied up, Den slip right close to de tree.

Now retch out yo' han' an' pull 'im in, Den run lak a William goat; An' if he holler, squeeze 'is neck, An' shove 'im un'er yo' coat.

Bake dat Chicken pie!

It's mighty hard to wait When you see dat Chicken pie, Hot, smokin' on de plate.

Bake dat Chicken pie!

Yes, put in lots o' spice.

Oh, how I hopes to Goodness Dat I gits de bigges' slice.

I AM NOT GOING TO HOBO ANY MORE