“Go on, Honey, go on,” urged Joe.
“An’ dis am de song she sung:” repeated Brevet.
“Go to sleep my little pickaninny,
Br’er Fox’ll catch if yo’ don t;
Slumber on de bosom of yo’ ole Mammy Jinny
Mammy’s gwine to swatch yo’ if yo’ won’t.
Sh—Lu-la, lu-la lu-la lu-la lu!
Underneaf de silver Southern moon,
Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, Mammy’s little baby,
Mammy’s little Alabama Coon.”