Till yo’ forgits to smile again,
So jes let trouble go!
Eph’s feet had been strangely uneasy during the rendering of the preceding stanzas, and Aunt Liza had pulled at his coat and whispered warningly: “Doan yo’ forgit, Eph, dis yere’s white folkses’ meetin’. Dey doan ’low no shuffle heah.”
“Cain’t help it, mammy,” returned Eph. “It do jes go clar through my toes.”
“Dar’s mighty lil’ dat we fin’
Dat’s like a nice contented min’;
It makes de worl’ de fines’ place
To lib dis side ob heabenly grace;
So jes let trouble go!”
“‘Git a lil’ sunshine in yo’ heart