Dem inkybator chickens dat's hatched by de clock,
Wid a lamp for love, is lonesome stock;
Dey feeds in droves, but dey envies de others
Dat scratches for grubs wid any ol' mothers.
An' dey ain't by deyselves, po' orphans, in dat—
No, dey ain't by deyselves in dat.
THE FIREFLY
Br'er Lightnin'-bug is a gay yo'ng spark,
But he nuver is yit put out de dark;
He shines for 'isself in 'is zigzag flight,
An' he's middlin' sho he's de sou'ce of light.
But he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat—
But he ain't by 'isself in dat.
THE THISTLE
De thistle-stalk sends up a noble bloom
Wid de shape of a flower an' de thought of a plume,
But its prickle-y ways turn friendship down;
So it stands all alone, in its velvet gown.
An' it ain't by its lonesome self in dat—
No, it ain't by itself in dat.
