Your nose may itch, no one is coming,
Your foot may itch, you’ll go nowhere,
An’ you can let de worms crall o’er you,
An’ den no new dress get to wear.
’N’ caus’ you have a little learnin’,
You need not try to figure rich,
Jus’ go and get a spaid or shovel,
And go runnin’ to de ditch.
And when you feel a little happy,
Don’t think of all de grief you’ve had.
An’ ’caus your eyes is trimblin’ little,
Dat ain’t no sign you goin’ git mad.
An’ if de toe next to de big one,
Is kinder long—you ain’t go’in rule,
Because my hair grows on my forehead,
You need not take me for a fool.
I’m going to sing soon in de mornin’,
De hawks may catch me before night,
But if da do you need not worry,
Jus’ say: “I bet they had to fight.”
LULLABY, GO TO SLEEP.
———
I’ll ne’er forget the day,
When I was young and gay,
A rolling ’round the floor in Tennessee;
From th’ cotton field so white,
My ma would come at night,
And fondly hold me in her arms and say:
Go to sleep, baby mine,
Little birdie in your nest;
Humming bees have left the vine,
Go to sleep and take your rest.