Some marsters gotter be tuck on trus’. How de wurm git in de scaly-bark? Who raised de row twixt de bee-martin en de buzzard?
A PLANTATION BALLAD.
I.
De boss, he squall ter de rompin’ boys:
Don’t bodder dat jug in de spring!
De jug, he guzzle out good, good, good!
Nigger, he holler en sing:
Oh, gimme de gal, de big greasy gal
W’at wrap up ’er ha’r wid a string!
II.