ter-day!
Oh, come out en buy
’Fo’e dey all git away—
Come out en buy!’”

En I laugh en tell him dat
Dis town full ter-day
Ob fine men, des lak hisse’f,
What kin preach en pray;
But dey ain’t but one dat go
Singin’ ’long dis way:

“Tomatoes en okra
Passin’ right by!
Beans en pertatoes—
De prices ain’t high!
Apples en peaches,
De fines’ ter-day!
Oh, come out en buy
’Fo’e dey all git away—
Come out en buy!”

By en By.

Uncle Reuben, ole en good,
Come ter town wid nice fat wood
Frum de san’ hills fur away—
’Mos’ eleben miles, dey say.
En he drive a ox so slow,
En a cart dat wobble so,
Dat it look lak dey gwine fall,
En ole Uncle gwine lose all,
By en by, by en by.

Uncle got dat wood dervide,
En in hones’ bundles tied,
En he holler ’cross de fence:
“Three big bunches fo’ ten cents!
Buy some, Missus, please, frum me,
Kaze I need de change, you see;
En I mus’ go down de street
Ter git me some meal en meat,
By en by, by en by.

Missus say she don’ want none;
What he brought befo’ ain’t gone;
En ole Uncle pass on by,
Still wid courage in his eye;
En he doan’ lose heart dat day,
But wid smilin’ face he say:
“I ain’t bin all ’roun’ de town—
I gwine sell it, I am boun’,
By en by, by en by.”

En he sell it all, fo’ true,
Ez he said dat he would do!
When at las’ he go down street,
He buy mo’ dan meal en meat,
Kaze he lak terbacco, too,
Well ez any nigger do;
En he say: “I’ll ’joy it, sho,
Ez erlong de road I go,
By en by, by en by.”

When he ’bout ter leave de town
Ez de sun am gwine down,
Us black niggers laugh en say:
“Bet you won’t git home ter-day
Wid dat ox, so ole en slow,
En dat cart dat wobble so!”
En he bow his head en say:
“I gwine git dar, anyway,
By en by, by en by.”

Uncle Reuben’s gittin’ ole—
He’s pas’ sixty, I’se bin tole;
En his han’ sho shake ter-day
In a weak en trimblin’ way;
En his ole legs wobbled too,
Lak de wheels ob his cart do,
Ez he say: “De en’ soon come,
Kaze de Lawd gwine call me home,
By en by, by en by.”

In Season Ob Mistletoe.

Dat Sambo ain’t got good sense;
Work agin hisse’f for sho;
’Tain’t no parable I’m tellin’,
’Tis de truf, en dat am so.
He wus ’ployed by Missus Johnsing
Ter run erran’s en bring wood;—
Ter do anything, in fac’,
Roun’ de place a nigger could;
En Sambo, he done right well
Till de boys begin ter sell
Bunches ob de mistletoe.

’Twus de Chris’mas time ercomin’,
En it tingled in his blood,
Till he couldn’t stick ter sawin’
En ter choppin’ ob de wood;
En he couldn’t heah de Missus
When she say: “Be smart, Sambo!”
Kaze de soun’ ob dem boys callin’
In de street wus all he know;
En a nigger stop en say:
“We is lucky, sho, ter-day;
We des sells de mistletoe!”

Sambo didn’t stop ter say:
“’Scuse me, Missus, I mus’ go!”
Do his po’ ole mammy teach him
Better manners, dat you know.
He des leave dat yard en clim’
Up de neares’ ole oak tree,
Whar de mistletoe wus growin’
Fresh en green ez it could be;
En he jine dem boys dat cry:
“Mistletoe er passin’ by!
Don’ you want some mistletoe?”

En he sell it mighty good—
He des scoop de nickles in!
Seem de Lawd wus blessin’ him
In his foolishness en sin.
Dar de Missus wus er needin’
Him ter chop en bring in wood,
En he orter gone en done it—
Kaze she sho bin mighty good,
But he strut erlong de street,
Hol’rin’ out: “It’s hard to beat
Dis fine bunch ob mistletoe!”

But de jedgment come at las’,
Ez it boun’ ter come, fo’ sho,
When a nigger work agin
His ownse’f, lak dat Sambo.
When de holidays wus pas’
Missus say dat she don’ need
Him to work no mo’ fo’ her,
Kaze she got some one instead.
En dat boy got sense ter know
White folks don’ buy mistletoe
When de season am done pas’!

Chris’mas Gif’!

I go tip-toe down de alley
Ter de Missus’ kitchen do’,
Kaze I know she got some Chris’mas
Somewhar fo’ dis darkey, sho;
She don’ spec’ me roun’ dat way,
En I s’prise her when I say:
“Chris’mas gif’!”

Den she turn roun’, des er laughin’,
En she say: “De same ter you!
Is you got a present fo’ me?
Kaze I want one—I sho do!”
“You’s des foolin’,” den I say;
“’Sides I hollered fus dis day:
‘Chris’mas gif’!’”

Den she git a big bandanna—
One wid po’ka dots ob red,
En she say: “Ez you done ketch me,
You kin hab dis fo’ yo’ head.”
So I sho am glad dis day
Dat I wus de fus ter say:
“Chris’mas gif’!”

Snow in the South.

Dis mornin’ when I went ter po’
Water out my cabin