Fifty years & Other Poems Part 10

A PLANTATION BACCHa.n.a.l

W'en ole Mister Sun gits tiah'd a-hangin'

High up in de sky; W'en der ain't no thunder and light'nin' a-bangin', An' de c.r.a.p's done all laid by; W'en yo' bones ain't achin' wid de rheumatics, Den yo' ride de mule to town, Git a great big jug o' de ole corn juice, An' w'en you drink her down--

Jes lay away ole Trouble, An' dry up all yo' tears; Yo' pleasure sho' to double An' you bound to lose yo' keers.

Jes lay away ole Sorrer High upon de shelf; And never mind to-morrer, 'Twill take care of itself.

W'en ole Mister Age begins a-stealin'

Thoo yo' back an' knees, W'en yo' bones an' jints lose der limber feelin', An' am stiff'nin' by degrees; Now der's jes one way to feel young and spry, W'en you heah dem banjos soun'

Git a great big swig o' de ole corn juice, An' w'en you drink her down--

Jes lay away ole Trouble, An' dry up all yo' tears; Yo' pleasure sho' to double An' you bound to lose yo' keers.

Jes lay away ole Sorrer High upon de shelf; And never mind to-morrer, 'Twill take care of itself.

JULY IN GEORGY

I'm back down in ole Georgy w'ere de sun is s.h.i.+nin' hot, W'ere de cawn it is a-ta.s.slin', gittin' ready fu' de pot;

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

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

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

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

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

A BANJO SONG

W'en de banjos wuz a-ringin', An' de darkies wuz a-singin', Oh, wuzen dem de good times sho!

All de ole folks would be chattin', An' de pickaninnies pattin', As dey heah'd de feet a-shufflin' 'cross de flo'.

An' how we'd dance, an' how we'd sing!

Dance tel de day done break.

An' how dem banjos dey would ring, An' de cabin flo' would shake!

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

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

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

ANSWER TO PRAYER

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lawd, sen' _to_ me a turkey, a big one if you please."

I 'clar to heaben I pray'd so much I mos' wore out ma knees.

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

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

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

DAT GAL O' MINE

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

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

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

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

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

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