Page:Poems of cabin and field.djvu/131

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Now, de blessed little angels
 Up in heaben, we are told,
Don't do nothin' all dere lifetime
 'Ceptin' play on ha'ps o' gold.
Now I think heaben 'd be mo' homelike
 Ef we'd hyear some music fall
F'om a real ol'-fashioned banjo,
 Like dat one upon de wall.

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