In some lonesome graveyard,
Oh, Lawd, no time to pray.
[As she sings Booker stealthily slips off his stool and going around to the opposite side of the table takes a spoon with which he approaches a dish set upon a warming-shelf fixed to the stove. He furtively dips his spoon in the dish and begins to eat. Lucy continuing her singing.]
Play on youah harp, little David,
Little Davy, how ole are you?
“I’m only twelve yeahs ole.”
[She turns and discovers Booker.] What! You stealin’! I’ll show you! [She gives him a cuff and a shake, depositing him again upon his stool.] You shorely is on de way to de fieh but I’m goin’ pluck you out ef it skins you alive. Steal, will you? What de sevenf commandment?
Booker
[Sniveling.] Thou shalt not steal.