[From De Namin' ob de Twins, and Other Sketches from the Cotton Land (New York, 1908)]
What I gwine name mah Ceely's twins?
I dunno, honey, yit,
But I is jes er-waitin' fer de fines' I kin git,
De names is purty nigh run out,
So many niggahs heah,
I 'clar' dey's t'ick as cotton-bolls in pickin'-time o' yeah.
But 't ain' no use to 'pose to me
Ole secondary names,
Lak 'Lizabeth an' Josephine, or Caesah, Torm, an' James,
'Ca'se dese heah twinses ob mah gal's
Is sech a diff'ent kind,
Dey's 'titled to do grandes' names dat ary one kin find.
Fer sho dese little shiny brats
Is got de fus'-cut look,
So mammy wants fine city names, lak you gits out a book;
I ax Marse Rob, an' he done say
Some 'rageous stuff lak dis:
He'd call de bruddah Be'lzebub, de sistah Genesis;
Or Alphy an' Omegy—de
Beginnin' an' de en'—
But den, ob co'se no man kin tell, what mo' de Lawd 'll sen';
Fer de pappy ob dese orphans—
You heah me?—I'll be boun',
While dey's er-crawlin' on de flo', he'll be er-lookin' roun';
'Ca'se I done seen dem Judas teahs
He drap at Ceely's grabe,
A-peepin' 'hind his han'kercher, at ole Tim's yaller Gabe;
A-mekin' out to moan an' groan,
Lak he was gwine 'o bus'—
Lawd! honey, dem dat howls de mos,' gits ober it de fus'.
Annynias an' Saphiry,
Sis Tab done say to me,
But he'p me, Lawd! what do she 'spec' dese chillum gwine o' be?
'Sides, dem names 's got er cur'us soun'—
You says I's hard to please?
Well, so 'ould any granny be, wid sech a pa'r as dese.
Ole Pahson Bob he 'low dat I
Will suttinly be sinnin',
Onless I gibs 'em names dat starts 'em right in de beginnin';
"Iwilla" fer de gal, he say,
F'om de tex' "I will a-rise,"
An' dat 'ould show she's startin' up, todes glory in de skies;
An' fer dis man chile, Aberham—
De fardah ob' em all—
Or else Belshazzah, who done writ dat writin' on de wall;
But Pahson Bob—axcuse me, Lawd!—
Hed bettah sabe his bref
To preach de gospel, an' jes keep his "visin" to hiss'f;
Per nary pusson, white nor black,
Ain' gib no p'int to me
'Bout namin' dese heah Chris'mus gifs, asleep on granny's knee;
(Now heshaby—don' squirm an' twis',
Be still you varmints, do!
You anin' gwine hab no niggah names to tote aroun' wide you!)