Dat Jew’s Harp.
I does try ter fetch up Jim
So de white folks respec’ him;
But in spite ob all I say
He des set out dar all day
On de back do’ step, en play
Dat jew’s harp.
De fus job he git ter do,
I wus glad, it sho am true;
But he come home, sleek en sly,
Wid de sunshine in his eye,
Soon’s he git enough ter buy
Dat jew’s harp.
“You black nigger, you!” I say,
“Whar yo’ senses gone ter-day?
Don’t you know when niggers eat
Dey mus’ ’arn dey bread en meat?”
But he des play, sof’ en sweet,
Dat jew’s harp.
When I tell ole Missus once
Jim wus des a lazy dunce,
She say: “Hush! Don’ talk dat way;
He’s a ginious, I dare say,
En de muses bid him play
Dat jew’s harp.”
Pshaw! De ginious en de muses!
What’s de use ob dem ixcuses?
If I hab ter flog dat Jim
Wid a great big hick’ry lim’,
Bet he’ll frow away frum him
Dat jew’s harp!
Wid His Feet.
When I git down my banjo
Des to pick a tune or so,
Tobin ’gin ter pat de flo’
Wid his feet.
He don’t neber heah me play
In de night-time or de day,
But he sho gwine ac’ dat way
Wid his feet.
En he pat, now fas’, now slow;—
Easy now, den loud, he go,
Keepin’ time ter my banjo
Wid his feet.
En who ever heah dat coon
Allers say, en dat right soon:
“He kin play a purty tune
Wid his feet.”
He kin make mo’ music, sho,
Dan I kin wid my banjo
When he pat de cabin flo’
Wid his feet.
De Broken Banjo.
In dis little ole log cabin
Whar de gray moss hang in sight;
Whar de screech-owl make me trimble
In de middle ob de night;
Dar at ebenin’ you gwine fin’ me,
If you look fo’ me at all,
Wid my Fido settin’ by me,
En my banjo on de wall.
Once, when de long day wus finish,
’Fo’e ter res’ me I done go,
I would set out on de do’ step
Pickin’ sof’ my ole banjo,
Singin’ “Dixie,” “Swanee Riber,”
“Annie Laurie,” en dem all;—
But my banjo am done broken,
En am hangin’ on de wall.
So I set heah dreamin’, dreamin’,
Ob de time dat use ter be
’Fo’e my Dinah went to heaben—
Dinah she wus lovin’ me!
En if she had neber lef’ me
I would neber weep at all,
En I would not miss de music
Ob de banjo on de wall.