Part 3

Oh, my eyes stay open wide, till de breakin' ob de day, When de long, long night oh waitin' am at las' done pass away; En I go outside en scratch Sweet pertaters frum de patch, Kaze wid juices ob de possum dey ain't nothin' else ter match.

When we bake dat critter brown, wid pertaters stuff inside, Den we say: "Oh, hasten, nigger, ez de bridegroom ter de bride!" Come en dine wid us ter-day, En we know dat you gwine stay Till de las ob dat good possum am done hid frum sight away.

Cotton's Comin' In.

Bet de goldenrod's a-bloomin' 'Long de country roads; Bet de hick'ry nuts am fallin' By de loads en loads. Bet pe'simmons am mos' ripe-- Makes a feller grin! What's de sign? Why, man alive, Cotton's comin' in!

Bet ole Pete am busy now Bilin' sorghum down; Bet dey'll hab a pullin' soon-- 'Vite me frum de town; Bet de apple's dryin' on Chiny plates en tin, Bet all dis, en mo', des kaze Cotton's comin' in.

Bet de rice am hangin' now Head down in de sun; Bet ole Massa's habin' times Wid his rod en gun; Wish I'd staid dar in de woods-- Town's chuck full ob sin, En I sho git homesick when Cotton's comin' in.

Bet de pinders spread out on De ole shed ter dry; Bet de possum know de way Ter de tree-top high. Soon dem darkies put away 'Taters in de bin;-- Lan'! I's gwine back when Pete Brings his cotton in!

Dat Yaller Gal.

I bin watchin' you, big Jim, En I s'prised, fo' sho; You is done fo'git mos' all Dat you eber know. Dar you wus, at de cake-walk, Makin' eyes at Sue, When you orter know dat gal Ain't gwine look at you.

Yo' hair curl on top yo' head Lak sheep's wool, fo' sho, En yo' skin am des ez black Ez de blackes' crow. Ebry time you pass dat gal She stick up her nose, En draw back, des lak she sca'ed You gwine touch her clo'es.

Think she am too good ter speak Ter a coal-black man What, ez ebrybody know, Do de bes' he kin, Kaze her skin ain't black lak yourn, En her hair ain't wool, She ac' lak she am de queen-- Sick'nin' yaller fool!

Ebry day she com' dat hair Lak de white folks do; Pin it back wid fine hair-pins, Shinin lak bran' new; En she go erlong de street Holding her head high, Lak she neber see her race When dey pass her by.

Us dat am de niggers right-- Us don't ac' lak dat! When we com' our hair we make Heah en dar a plait; En we wrap 'em good wid cord So dey sho gwine stay Right in place a week or mo' Frum de com'in' day.

En we don't pass cullud folks Wid our head up high, But we stop en speak wid dem 'Fo'e we pass on by. En we as' 'em: "How you do? How's de folks at home?" En we tell 'em whar we live, Sayin' "You mus' come."

I's bin watchin' you, big Jim, En I's s'prised, fo' sho; Ez I sed, you is fo'got All you eber know. If you's got good sense you'll quit Makin' eyes at Sue, Kaze dat stuck-up yaller gal Ain't gwine look at you.

To Walk Wid His Gal.

Dem gals stan' erbout, en giggle en grin; Dey say: "His shoes shine' lak a bran' new pin!" En de way dat dey treat him am sholy a sin, When John go ter walk wid his gal.

Dey laugh at his hat en dey laugh at his tie, En dey say: "Will you 'low us ter see you go by?" En sho wid sich nonsinse dat nigger dey try, When John go ter walk wid his gal.

"Oh, shet up!" I tell 'em, "en dat right away,-- I know what's de matter, now heah what I say; You's ebry one jealous, you sho is, ter-day, Kaze John gone ter walk wid his gal!"

"Cunjud."

Frow fish salt out on de grass Ebrywhar dat man done pass, En be quick; Scatter it all roun' de do', Else somebody heah, fo' sho, Gwine be sick.

He done cunjur' me, you know, One time long en long ago, 'Fo'e you bo'n; En it ain't fo' good ter-day Dat he stop by heah dat way, Den pass on.

Dat de way he done befo', En wid fever laid me low In de bed. Go en spread de salt all roun' 'Fo'e we bofe am lyin' down, Sick or dead.

Uncle Ben's Superstition.

Oh, please, Missus, don't as' dat! Is you neber heah it sed Him dat plants a holly tree Sho gwine lie down, stiff en dead, Soon's dat tree grow big en high 'Nough ter shade him whar he lie?

I ain't sca'ed ob death, not me! I's bin baptized in de creek, En in big experience meetin's I does rise sometimes ter speak; But I don't tempt Providence;-- 'Tis a act ob wickedness.

"How ter git it planted, den?" Ain't got time, yo'se'f, you say? Lis'n, mum, en I will tell you What's, fo' true, de only way, 'Th'out you hab somebody die Soon's dat tree grow big en high:

Put a seed somewhar out do's, So de win' will blow it down Des whar you would hab it planted, On a nice, sof' bit ob groun'. Dar it will take root en grow; I is tried it, en I know.

But ter put de seed in groun', Or ter plant dar de young tree, Am sho temptin' Providence-- En it ain't bin done by me; Dat am how I'm heah ter-day Ter teach ole Missus de right way.

Wid de Witches.

When I hab ter go ter bed, I sho civer up my head, Kaze I allers mighty sca'ed Dat de witches come at night.

Dey does come sometimes, you know, En wid dem you got ter go, Ridin' fas' or ridin' slow, When dey come fo' you at night.

I does try my bes' ter shriek, But my voice git low en weak, En I shake so I cain't speak When de witches come at night.

Oh, dey tote you up so high Till you neahly touch de sky, En you sca'ed mos' 'nough ter die When you ride wid dem at night.

"You des dream dat," Missus say, But she don't fool me ter-day! I done bin too fur away Wid dem witches des las' night.

A Restless Spirit.

"Don't b'I'eve in hants?" Well, dat des show Dat you cartin neber know 'Bout dat big house on de hill, Whar a sperit walk at night When de dark done quench de light, En de worl' am calm en still.

"Who lib dar?" Well, gracious me! You won't as' dat when you see Dat ghos' walkin' roun' de place; Ghos' dat allers kneels en prays Under dem magnolia trees, Wid a sad en longin' face.

Once, dey say, a sweet bride come Frum her fur-off northern home, Ter dis lan' ob flow'rs en song; En she love de birds en bees Hummin' 'roun' dem fragrant trees, En wus happy all day long.

Dar she go mos' ebry day When de noon-sun shine dat way, Waitin' fo' her man ter come; En when evenin' light grow dim Dar she go ter watch fo' him Ter come back ter dat glad home.

En dey walk dar, des dem two, When de stars am peepin' frue Leaves ob dem magnolia trees; En dey bofe am glad ob heart Des kaze dey don't walk apart, En am kiss by dat same breeze.

When one day dat man come home, He don't see his young wife come Out ter meet him on de lawn; She took sick, de people say, En her spirit pass away 'Fo'e de little baby bo'n.

Den her mammy write en say: "Fetch en bury her, we pray, By her sisters heah at home." So she lie dar in de col', Whar de win's am strong en bol', Waitin' fo' de kingdom come.

But her sperit walk at night, When de dark done quench de light, Under dem magnolia trees; En she stop dar en kneel down Wid her white dress floatin' roun' In de gentle, sighin' breeze.

Oh, my heart ache in my breas' Fo' dat sperit cravin' res'! En I know it would fin' ease If dey bring dem bones some day Ter de south, en let 'em lay Under dem magnolia trees.

Pardoned.

Ike wus workin' on de chain gang Ebry day till set ob sun, Kaze he bin took up fo' somethin' Dat he neber orter done.

En he ketch de quick consumption Workin' in de col' en rain, En he say if dey des free him He won't do so bad agin.

Den his white frien's write a letter Dat dey as' us all ter sign, Sayin': "Ike am weak en sickly, En he mus' be treated kin'."

Sayin': "He cain't lib much longer, En we hope you let him come Back ter dem dat am his people, So he pass away at home."

En we des keep waiting', waitin', Till a letter come at las', Sayin' dat de gov'nor glad He kin grant us what we as'.

When we carry Ike dat message, Ho don't heah us what we say, Kaze de Lawd done come en call him, En his soul done pass away.

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's Darkey Ways in Dixie, by Margaret A. Richard