en how, en why?
Dat you los’ it ter dem chaps
Roun’ de corner playin’ craps?

Neber los’ it? Well, I say!
Why you talk so slow?
Bring dat money out ter sight,
So I sho kin know
If you ’scape dem cunnin’ chaps
Roun’ de corner playin’ craps.

Thirteen ob dem! Thirteen coppers,
Sho ez I’m erlive!
Han’ dem ebry one to me—
Scusin ob des five;—
En you stay ’way frum them chaps
Roun’ de corner playin’ craps!

The Washerwoman’s Song.

Oh, I rub en I rub
All day in de tub!
I went fo’ dese clo’es ’fo’e de clock strike eight,
En I rubbin’ on dem in de evenin’ late.
I rub en I rub
All day in de tub.

Oh, I rub en I rub
All day in de tub!
I soap all de pieces in places erbout,
En I scrub till I git all de dinginess out.
I rub en I rub
All day in de tub.

Oh, I rub en I rub
All day in de tub!
Sho ez de good Missus pay me fo’ dese
I gwine treat you chillun ter crackers en cheese.
Ain’t you glad I kin rub
All day in de tub?

A Seller Ob Ole Clo’es.

Dese am pretty clo’es, fo’ true,
En I’ll sell ’em quick fo’ you,
Dat I will!
Dey does look des lak you, Miss,
En I feel dat I could kiss
Ebry frill.

Dis heah flower on dis hat—
Lan’! My heart do cry fo’ dat—
It so sweet!
I would sholy lak ter go
Wid it on my head, des so,
Down de street.

“Buy it, den, yo’se’f,” you say?
Now, you know dat I cain’t pay
Fo’ dat hat!
Sellin’ clo’es ain’t made me rich,
But my head do sholy itch
To weah dat.

If dem niggers come en pay
Allers fo’ de clo’es dey say
Dey gwine git,
I would hab de change ter buy
Somethin’ when my heart do cry
So fo’ it.

Ten cents on de dollar, Miss,
Won’ buy soon a hat lak dis,
Dat am sho;
En dis nigger hab ter eat—
Hab ter buy some bread en meat,
Ez you know.

Well, good-day! Dese pretty clo’es,
Wid dey laces en dey bows,
Soon be gone;
Kaze dem gals, when dey heah tell
Dat I got yo’ clo’es ter sell,
Sho gwine run.

The Well-Cleaner’s Revery.

Me en Tom bin cleanin’ wells
Long time, sho;
En we’ll clean ’em till God tells
Us ter go
Up dar whar de shinin’ stream,
Pu’ en sweet,
Flow frue heaven, lak a dream,
At our feet.

En I min’ me how us two,
Ez time pass,
Work togedder good, fo’ true,
Fus’ en las’;
One stay up en one go down,
En bofe know
Dey mus’ fill dey place, I boun’,
High or low.

When Tom turn de win’lass roun’,
En I go
Fur down underneath de groun’,
Dark en low,
I trus’ allers dat he gwine
Draw me out
Ter de place whar de sun shine
All erbout.

En I b’lieve dat if a man
Fall in sin,
We mus’ lif’ him, if we kin,
Up ag’in;
Kaze he need de he’pin’ han’,
Dat am sho,
If all safe he rise en stan’
Any mo’.

God done take dis simple way
Ter show me
Dat while in de worl’ we stay
We must be
’Pendent on each other, sho,
Till we rise
Frum de dang’rous deeps below
Ter de skies.

Song Of the Huckster.

I don’ ride erlong de street
Wid my mouth shet tight,
Kaze I know I got ter sing,
Lak a singer right,
If I make dis pile ob goods
Dwindle frum de sight:

“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!”

All de white men down de street
Wantin’ me, fo’ sho,
Des to drive en sell fo’ dem,
Kaze dey say dey know
I git rid ob all my truck,
Singin’ ez I go:

“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!”

Once de preacher what hol’ fo’th
Fo’ de Methodis’,
Say: “Oh, man, I b’l’eve dat you
Done yo’ callin’ miss!
Why’n’t you use dat voice ter preach
’Stead ob shoutin’ dis:

“‘Tomatoes en okra
Passin’ right by!
Beans en pertatoes—
De prices ain’t high!
Apples en peaches,
De fines’