No coon can come between us ...
would accent his quick coming steps and he would clatter the dishes from the tray with cunning small gestures.
“Aw Be’y,” Moll would plead, ready to cry.
My gal, she’s a high-born lady,
She’s dark but not too shady.
Down the line, oh, there we shine,
Me an’ that high-born gal o’ mine....
“Aw, Be’y, go on,” a softly pled distress.
“I just likes to sing,” Berry said, “and someways I’m partial to that old song.”