Darkey Ways in Dixie

by Margaret A. Richard

What His Education Done.

What dat you say? Sen’ Zeke ter school
Des kaze he ain’t bin bo’n a fool?
Now you talkin’! You ain’t heerd
’Bout George Washington T. Beard?
He wus smart, his ma tell me,
En he l’arn his A, B, C,
’Thout no’ difficult at all—
Nat’ral ez de ripe fruit fall.
En dat smartness grow on him
Fas’ ez leaves grow on de lim’,
Till at las’ de people say:
“He mus’ sholy go away
Ter de college in de town!”
’Twus a great one, I am boun’,
Whar dey teach dat young man mo’
Dan de mos’ ob niggers know.
When he reach ter gradiation,
My! Dey make a great ’miration;
En dey say: “Spite ob his race,
En dat shinin’, coal-black face,
He gwine make de people’s eyes
Open wide wid dey surprise;
Dat wus sho a good essay,
What he read fo’ us ter-day.”
En dey say dem people chee’ed
Dat George Washington T. Beard;
Say he look en ac’ ez gran’
Ez de fines’ in de lan;
Bowin’ dis en den dat way
Wid a smile dat seem ter say:
“I is ready now ter do
Somethin’ dat will ’stonish you.”
Den what nex’? He des come home—
Wait dar fo’ de chance ter come
Ter git some big job, fo’ true,
Lak falutin’ white folks do;—
Think he am too smart, you know,
Ter use axe or spade or hoe;
Or ter do work, han’ ter han’,
Wid de ignorant cullud man.

Dar he set en dar he wait,
Railin’ ’gin de nigger’s fate,
Sayin’ dat de worl’ am hard,
When we all know dat de Lawd
Make it easier, fo’ sho’,
When de man use what he know;
When he don’t des set en wait,
Railin’ allers ’gin his fate.
Ez you say, dat Zeke ob mine
Got a min’ dat sho could shine,
En dem han’s ob his kin do
Mos’ ez much ez mine, fo’ true.
He won’t neber lack fo’ bread
Wid dem han’s en wid dat head;
En I don’t sen’ him ter school
Whar he l’arn ter be a fool.

Booker T. Washington.

People tell de news las’ week
Dat a cullud man gwine speak
At de college hall;
Say he try ter lif’ his race
Ter a high en shinin’ place
On dis ’restial ball.
En dey say dat cullud man
Doin’ work dat sho am gran’
In dis worl’ below;
Say he gib his life, fo’ true,
So de nigger be en do
Better dan befo’.
He done ’stablish a fine school,
Whar, dey say, he ’force dis rule:
Train de man all roun’;
Let de han’s dey duty know;
Let de min’ wake up en grow;
Let de heart be soun’.

Dat great school am situate
Down in Alabamy state,
In dis Dixie lan’;
En folks north en eas’ en wes’,
When dey heah it do its bes’,
Len’ a he’pin’ han’.
Mr. Washington come down
Las’ week ter dis very town,
Ez I spec’ you know;
En when I went ter dat hall
Des ter heah him speak, en all,
I wus ’sprised, fo’ sho;
’Sprised ter see dat cullud man
On de platform, dress up gran’,
Wid de bes’ white men;
En if he don’t speak dat day
Words ez good ez dey kin say—
Den my name ain’t Ben!
Oh, I wish dat I could tell
What he say! It make me swell
All up fat wid pride;
En I say: “I sho gwine shake
His right han’ fo’ dem words’ sake,
When we git outside.”
When he finish en set down,
I go outside en walk roun’
Till his face I see;
Den I say, sho ez I bo’n:
“Howdy, Mr. Washington!
Won’t you speak ter me?”
En he shake my han’ de way
Dat men do when dey hearts say:
“Glad ter see yo’ face!”
En I tell him; “’Fo’e you go
I mus’ say, you make me, sho,
Proud ob de black race.”

Crazy Joe’s Ambition.

Crazy Joe, he make me laugh
When he talk dat way
’Bout de mansion on de hill
Whar de gov’nor stay;
When he vow dat he
Sho ez life gwine be
Walkin’ on dem flo’s some day.
He ain’t wise on politics,
En we tell him so,
En we say: “Nobody vote
Fo’ you, Crazy Joe!”
But he say dat he
Sometime sho gwine be
Walkin’ on dat mansion flo’.
His vote he’p de white man git
Ter dat place, he say,
En he waitin’ fo’ de state
Ter do right, en pay
Him wid dis job soon:
Washin’ de spittoon
What dey use dar ebry day!