Fifty Years & Other Poems/A Plantation Bacchanal

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A Plantation Bacchanal

W'en ole Mister Sun gits tiah'd a-hangin'
High up in de sky;
W'en der ain't no thunder and light'nin' a-bangin',
An' de crap's done all laid by;
W'en yo' bones ain't achin' wid de rheumatics,
Den yo' ride de mule to town,
Git a great big jug o' de ole corn juice,
An' w'en you drink her down—

   Jes lay away ole Trouble,
   An' dry up all yo' tears;
   Yo' pleasure sho' to double
   An' you bound to lose yo' keers.
   Jes lay away ole Sorrer
   High upon de shelf;
   And never mind to-morrer,
   'Twill take care of itself.

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W'en ole Mister Age begins a-stealin'
Thoo yo' back an' knees,
W'en yo' bones an' jints lose der limber feelin',
An' am stiff'nin' by degrees;
Now der's jes one way to feel young and spry,
W'en you heah dem banjos soun'
Git a great big swig o' de ole corn juice,
An' w'en you drink her down—

   Jes lay away ole Trouble,
   An' dry up all yo' tears;
   Yo' pleasure sho' to double
   An' you bound to lose yo' keers.
   Jes lay away ole Sorrer
   High upon de shelf;
   And never mind to-morrer,
   'Twill take care of itself.

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