BLESSING THE DANCE
(From Christmas-Night in the Quarters)
O Mahsr! let dis gath’rin fin’ a blessin’ in yo’ sight!
Don’t jedge us hard fur what we does—yo’ know it’s Chrismus-night;
An’ all de balunce ob de yeah we does as right’s we kin.
Ef dancin’s wrong, O Mahsr! let de time excuse de sin!
We labors in de vin’ya’d, wukin’ hard an’ wukin’ true;
Now, shorely yo’ won’t notus, ef we eats a grape or two,
An’ takes a leetle holiday,—a leetle restin’-spell,—
Bekase, nex’ week, we’ll start in fresh, an’ labor twicet as well.
Remember, Mahsr,—min’ dis now,—de sinfullness ob sin
Is ’pendin’ ’pon de sperrit what we goes an’ does it in;
An’ in a righchis frame ob min’ we’s gwine to dance an’ sing,
A-feelin’ like King David, when he cut de pigeon-wing.
It seems to me—indeed it do—I mebbe mout be wrong—
Dat people raly ought to dance, when Chrismus comes along;
Des dance bekase dey’s happy—like de birds hops in de trees,
De pine-top fiddle soundin’ to be bowin’ ob de breeze.
We has no ark to dance afore, like Isrul’s prophet king;
We has no harp to soun’ de chords, to holp us out to sing;
But ’cordin’ to de gif’s we has we does de bes’ we knows,
An’ folks don’t ’spise de vi’let-flower bekase it ain’t de rose.
Yes, bless us, please, Sah, eben ef we’s doin’ wrong to-night;
Kase den we’ll need de blessin’ more’n ef we’s doin’ right;
An’ let de blessin’s stay wid us, untel we comes to die,
An’ goes to keep our Chrismus wid dem sheriffs in de sky!
Yes, tell dem preshis anguls we’s a-gwine to jine ’em soon:
Our voices we’s a-trainin’ fur to sing de glory tune;
We’s ready when you wants us, an’ it ain’t no matter when.
O Mahsr! call yo’ chillen soon, an’ take ’em home! Amen.