Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/72
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W'Y DE BLACK FOLKS AM SO GOOD
Dere's some w'at says dat de Lawd wuz out
W'en nigger folks wuz made.
De debil he come roun' at dusk
A-shamblin' thoo de shade.
He hed a bucket full o' tar
He'd toted fom below,
En' he melt it wid a red-hot star
'Til he hed it bile' des so.
He went to wo'k en' made a man
De spittin' twin o' paw,
Den sot a 'ooman long beside
Prezackly lak yer maw.
He lef' 'em des outside de gate,
En w'en de Lawd come home
He seed 'em, peart an' biggetty,
A-peerin' thoo de gloam.
Sezee, "Dat debil's at 'is tricks;
I'll stir up one myse'f."
So He ups en' blows on bofe on 'em
'Til he chocked 'em full o' bref.
"Now scoot!" sezee, en' off dey scamps
A-chasin' Brudder Nick,
Who, w'en he seed 'em at 'is heels,
Begun ter holler quick:
"Oh, mercy, Lawd, dear Mistah Lawd!
I is de fooly one.
I mek You sech a fine supprise
En' dis am w'at You done!
Oh, lawsy massy! call 'em off!
Don' sic 'em at mah tail!"
Den hippety-fetchity on he humps
En' leab a cinder trail. .
De Lawd He call dem niggers back,
Den laff Hisse'f plum sick.
"Lib on," sezee, "en' multerply,
En' keep on skeerin' Nick."
En' dat's de w'y ob ev'yt'ing,
W'en nigger folks wuz made.
De debil he come roun' at dusk
A-shamblin' thoo de shade.
He hed a bucket full o' tar
He'd toted fom below,
En' he melt it wid a red-hot star
'Til he hed it bile' des so.
He went to wo'k en' made a man
De spittin' twin o' paw,
Den sot a 'ooman long beside
Prezackly lak yer maw.
He lef' 'em des outside de gate,
En w'en de Lawd come home
He seed 'em, peart an' biggetty,
A-peerin' thoo de gloam.
Sezee, "Dat debil's at 'is tricks;
I'll stir up one myse'f."
So He ups en' blows on bofe on 'em
'Til he chocked 'em full o' bref.
"Now scoot!" sezee, en' off dey scamps
A-chasin' Brudder Nick,
Who, w'en he seed 'em at 'is heels,
Begun ter holler quick:
"Oh, mercy, Lawd, dear Mistah Lawd!
I is de fooly one.
I mek You sech a fine supprise
En' dis am w'at You done!
Oh, lawsy massy! call 'em off!
Don' sic 'em at mah tail!"
Den hippety-fetchity on he humps
En' leab a cinder trail. .
De Lawd He call dem niggers back,
Den laff Hisse'f plum sick.
"Lib on," sezee, "en' multerply,
En' keep on skeerin' Nick."
En' dat's de w'y ob ev'yt'ing,
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