Wid de Witches.
When I hab ter go ter bed,
I sho civer up my head,
Kaze I allers mighty sca’ed
Dat de witches come at night.
Dey does come sometimes, you know,
En wid dem you got ter go,
Ridin’ fas’ or ridin’ slow,
When dey come fo’ you at night.
I does try my bes’ ter shriek,
But my voice git low en weak,
En I shake so I cain’t speak
When de witches come at night.
Oh, dey tote you up so high
Till you neahly touch de sky,
En you sca’ed mos’ ’nough ter die
When you ride wid dem at night.
“You des dream dat,” Missus say,
But she don’t fool me ter-day!
I done bin too fur away
Wid dem witches des las’ night.
A Restless Spirit.
“Don’t b’I’eve in hants?” Well, dat des show
Dat you cartin neber know
’Bout dat big house on de hill,
Whar a sperit walk at night
When de dark done quench de light,
En de worl’ am calm en still.
“Who lib dar?” Well, gracious me!
You won’t as’ dat when you see
Dat ghos’ walkin’ roun’ de place;
Ghos’ dat allers kneels en prays
Under dem magnolia trees,
Wid a sad en longin’ face.
Once, dey say, a sweet bride come
Frum her fur-off northern home,
Ter dis lan’ ob flow’rs en song;
En she love de birds en bees
Hummin’ ’roun’ dem fragrant trees,
En wus happy all day long.
Dar she go mos’ ebry day
When de noon-sun shine dat way,
Waitin’ fo’ her man ter come;
En when evenin’ light grow dim
Dar she go ter watch fo’ him
Ter come back ter dat glad home.
En dey walk dar, des dem two,
When de stars am peepin’ frue
Leaves ob dem magnolia trees;
En dey bofe am glad ob heart
Des kaze dey don’t walk apart,
En am kiss by dat same breeze.
When one day dat man come home,
He don’t see his young wife come
Out ter meet him on de lawn;
She took sick, de people say,
En her spirit pass away
’Fo’e de little baby bo’n.
Den her mammy write en say:
“Fetch en bury her, we pray,
By her sisters heah at home.”
So she lie dar in de col’,
Whar de win’s am strong en bol’,
Waitin’ fo’ de kingdom come.
But her sperit walk at night,
When de dark done quench de light,
Under dem magnolia trees;
En she stop dar en kneel down
Wid her white dress floatin’ roun’
In de gentle, sighin’ breeze.
Oh, my heart ache in my breas’
Fo’ dat sperit cravin’ res’!
En I know it would fin’ ease
If dey bring dem bones some day
Ter de south, en let ’em lay
Under dem magnolia trees.
“On de Chain Gang.”