I dreamt last night I was walking around,
I met that nigger and I knocked her down;
I knocked her down and I started to run,
Till the sheriff done stopped me with his Gatling gun.
I made a good run, but I run too slow,
He landed me over in the Jericho;
I started to run off down the track,
But they put me on the train and brought me back.
SECOND.
Says, when I die,
Bury me in black,
For if you love that of woman of mine,
I’ll come a sneakin’ back;
For if you love that woman of mine,
I’ll come a sneakin’ back.
THIRD.
If you don’t quit monkeying with my Lulu,
I’ll tell you what I’ll do;
I’ll fling around your heart with my razor;
I’ll shoot you through and through.
That the negro’s esthetic nature may be improving is indicated by the following song. For tremendousness of comparison, I know nothing to equal it. It is entitled:
THE BROWN-SKINNED WOMAN.
A brown-skinned woman and she’s chocolate to the bone.
A brown-skinned woman and she smells like toilet soap.
A black-skinned woman and she smells like a billy goat.
A brown-skinned woman makes a freight train slip and slide.
A brown-skinned woman makes an engine stop and blow.
A brown-skinned woman makes a bulldog break his chain.
A brown-skinned woman makes a preacher lay his Bible down.
I married a woman; she was even tailor made.
You will find plenty of economics in the following song. The present-day negro early made that most fatal of all discoveries: namely, that a man can really live in this world without working. Hence his beau ideal is the gambler, and his bête noir is the county jail or the penitentiary.