Sis' Porcupine, wid 'er bristles all set In a pompado' style, is waitin' yet, An' she can't understan', whilst she puckers 'er mug, De sca'city o' kisses an' de absent hug. But she ain't by 'er lonesome self in dat— No, she ain't by 'erself in dat.
ANTS
Dem Ants is sho' got savin' ways An' even de Scripture 'lows 'em praise; But dey hoa'ds for deyselves f'om day to day An' dey stings any man wha' gits in de way. An' dey ain't no new co'poration in dat— No, dey ain't by deyselves in dat.
THE PARROT
Sis' Tin-cage Polly wid de roamin' nose Dat roams f'om 'er eyes tel it p'ints to 'er toes, She keeps up a ratlin' talkin' pace To turn off attention f'om de shape of 'er face. An' you ain't by yo'self, Sis' Polly, in dat— No, you ain't by yo'self in dat.
