xt75dv1ck30b https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt75dv1ck30b/data/mets.xml Gordon, Armistead C. (Armistead Churchill), 1855-1931. 18931888 books b92-232-31280861 English C. Scribner's, : New York : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Black English.Page, Thomas Nelson, 1853-1922. Befo' de war : echoes in Negro dialect / by A.C. Gordon and Thomas Nelson Page. text Befo' de war : echoes in Negro dialect / by A.C. Gordon and Thomas Nelson Page. 1893 2002 true xt75dv1ck30b section xt75dv1ck30b
BEPO' DL WAR
F&hoes
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bjA'C-Gordon and
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This page in the original text is blank.
BEFO' DE
WAR
ECHOES IN NLEGRO DIALECT
BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE.
ELSKET AND OTHER STORIES. i2in, i.oo
NEWFOUND RIVER. 2ino, . . . X00
IN OLE VIRGINIA. 12mo,, , 1.25
THE SAME. Cameo Edition. With an etch-
ing by W. L. Sheppard. i6mo, . . 1.25
AMONG THE CAMPS. Young People's
Stories of the War. Ilustrated4 Sq. 8vo, i.;o
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES. Illus-
trated. Square 8vo,. . . . . 1.50
"BEFO' DE WAR." Echoes of Negro Dia-
!est. By. A. C. Gordon and Thomas
Nelson Page. i2mo, . . . . 1100
BEFO' DE WAR
ECHOES IN NE(RO DIALECT
BY
A. C. GORDON
AND
THOMAS NELSON PAGE
NEW YORK
CHARLES SC'.':NER'S 53N-3
I 893
COPYRIGHT, ,888, BV
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
MTPI4YNG A.0 -O1K'ND115G COMPAWY,
lices 10ORK.
'Co
THE MEMORY OF
IRWIN RUSSELL
WHO AWOKE THE
FIRST I CHO
This page in the original text is blank.
C O N T E N T S.
Thnomas Nelson Page.
PAGE
UNCLE (GABE'S WHITE FOLKS, .
ZEKYL'S INFIDELITY, . . , . . 17
ASiCAE, . . 89
,iTTiE JACK, II.. . . 1
MARSE PHIL, . 117
ONE MOURNER, . . 127
A. C. Gordon.
NIGGER Twis', . . . . 6
KYARLINA JIM, . . . . . 10
DE OLE 'OMAN AN' ME, . . 13
OLE LAUGHIN', . 21
X130,. . . . . . . 25
DEPARTED LUCK, . . . . . . 30
IK EE, . . . . . . . 34
PAGE
MINE OYSTER, . . . . . 38
POKE O' MOONSHINE. . . . . 43
THE LAMENT (IF ORPIIfEUS, . . . . 4S
LOFTY AND LOWLY, . . . .
GOD KNoWs, . . . . 56
VIRGINIA CREEPERS, . . . . . 6o
BEFORE TIlE PARTY , . . . 63
AT WHITEHALL, . . . .
MARS' RODNEYvS HAT, 70
A NANIAS, . . . . 75
DEAD, . . . . . . . 79
FESTINA LENTE, . .83
JUCKS, . . . . . . 86
ICHABOD, . . . 94
SIMEON, F0.om GEORGY, . 9S
DISAPPOINTMENT. . . . . . 102
To You, ;.. . . . 10
SWEET HOME, . , . . .o8
I TOME AGAIN, , . . . 123
UNCLE GABE'S WVHITE FOL KS.
SARVENT, Marster ! Yes, sah, dat's me-
Ole Unc' Gabe's my name;
I thankee, Marster, I'm 'bout, yo' see.
" An' de ole 'ooman " She's much de same,
Po'ly an' 'plainin', thank de Lord !
But de -Marster's gwine ter come back from 'broad.
"Fine ole place '" Yes, salh, 'tis so;
An' mighty fine people my white folks war-
But you ought ter 'a' seen it years ago.
When de Marster an' de Mistis lived tup dvah
When de niggers 'd stan' all roun' de do',
Like grains o' corn on de cornhouse flu'.
I
2 UNCLE GABE'S [U.1TE FOLKS.
"Live mons'ous high " Yes, Marster, yes
Cut'n' onroyal 'n' gordly clash ;
Eat an' drink till you couldn' res'.
Ma' folks war'n' none o' yo' po'-white-trash.
Nor, sah, dey was ob high degree-
Dis heah nigger am quality!
Tell you 'bout 'em " You mus' 'a' hearn
'Bout my ole white folks, sho' !
I tell you, stull, dey was gre't an' stern
D' didn' have nuttin' at all to learn
D' knowed all dar was to know;
Gol' ober (le' head an' onder dey feet;
An' silber! dey sowed 't like folks sows wheat.
Use ter be rich " Dat warn' de wud!
Jes' wallowed an' roll' in wealf.
Why, none o' my wvhite folks ever stir'd
Ter lif' a han' for d'self;
UNCLE GABE'S WHITE FOLA-S.
De niggers use ter be stan'in' roun'
Jes' d' same ez leaves when dey fus' fall down;
De stable-stalls up heah at home
Looked like teef in a fine-tzof comb;
De cattle was p'digious-mus' tell de fac'!
An' de hogs mecked de hill-sides look like black
An' de flocks ob sheep was so gre't ail' white
Dey 'peared like clouds on a moonshine night.
An' when my ole Mistis use' ter walk-
Jes' ter her kerridge (dat was fur
Ez ever she walked)-I tell you, sir,
You could almnos' heah her silk dress talk
flit use' ter soun' like de mnornin' breeze,
When it wakes an' rustles de Gre't House trees.
An' de Marster's face !-de Marster's face,
Whenever de Marster got right pleased-
Well, I 'clar' ter Gord, 'twculd shine wid grace
De same ez his countenance had been greased.
De cellar, too, had de bes' ob wine,
3
4 UAC -iNl' GAL BE'S Ilf'ZJ1T /E AS.
An' bran(ly, an' sperrits dat yo' could fine
An' ev'ything in dvah rvas stored,
'Skusin' de Glory of de Lord !
"Warn' dvahl a son " Yes, sah, voti knows
ie's (le voung -Marster now
Btit we heah dat dey tooken he very clo'es
Ter pay what ole Marster owe
He's done been gone ten year, I s'pose.
But he's comin' back some clay, of co'se
An' my ole 'ooman is altiz pyard,
An' meckin' de Blute-Room baid;
An' ev'rv day dem sheets is ayard,
An' will be till s/hs (laid
An' de styars she'll scour,
An' dat roorm she'll ten',
Ev'y blessed day dat (le Lord do sen'!
What say, Marster Yo' say, you knows-
He's voung an' slender-like an' fvah
UNVCLE GABE'S WHITE FOLKS.
Better-lookin' 'n you, of co'se !
Hi! you's lie 'Fo' Gord, 'tis him!
'Tis de very voice an' eyes an' hyah,
An' mouf an' smile, on'y yo' ain' so slim-
I wonder whah-whah's de ole 'ooman
Now let mny soul
Depart in peace,
For I behol'
Dy glory, Lord !-I knowed you, chile-
I knowed you soon's I see'd your face!
Whar has you been dis blessed while
Done come back an' buy de place
Oh, bless de Lord for all his grace
De ravins shell hunger, an' shell not lack
De Marster, de young Marster's done come back
5
NIGGER-TWIS'.
RIGHT hard work while it lasts-dat's so-
Worruming 'backer all day long;
Miz'ry gits in yer back, you know,
Speshly deni what ain't so strong.
Dat's my fix. But it seems ter me
Ise paid fur it all when it comes ter dis
My long-stem pipe, little Jake on my knee,
An' my pocket chock full o' nigger-twis'.
"Corn-cob " Yes, sir. It ain't so fine
As dat 'hogany-colored one o' yourn;
But I gits as much out o' dis o' mine
As de fines' one you ever did own.
NVIGGER-TWIS'.
De juice all dries in de cob, you see-
Dat's de philos'phy o' pipes like dis;
An' a reed-root stem is de stem fur me,
An' de sweetes' 'backer is nigger-twis'.
Dem dar's cur'us things, sho' 'nuf-
Dem little splinters what lights jes' so
Hit dey heads whar de box are rough
A sort o' hard-an4 away dey go!
I never liked 'em. It seenis ter me
De devil's in 'em some way. An' dis
Is jes' as good an' as true, you see-
A red-hot coal on de nigger twis'.
"Wouildn' I like a cigar" you say.
No, sir, I thank you. Ise tried dem dar-
Diff'rent, sir, as de night from day;
Fur apart as a cuss an' pra'r
7
-G (,' GER- TI [IS',.
Hasn't no strength, it seems ter me
Can't begin to compar' wid dis;
Nothin' onder de sun can be
Sweet as a cob an' some nigger-twis'.
No-dat nuther ! Well, I'll declar'
Dat is de beatenes' Ise seed yet !
What is de name dat you call dat 'ar
Say it again, please " Cigarette "
Little Jake, what sets on my knee,
'Ud turn up his nose at a thing like dis;
Ise gwine ter teach him ter do like me,
An' suck de comfort from nigger-twis'.
Yes, dat's a fac'! 'Tis a lux'ry, sho',
'Backer is, whatever you say.
Seems like I never wants nothin' mo',
'Ceptin' ter set down here dis way,
8
TIZGGERFTWIVIS'. 9
Take little Jake tip on my knee,
Have me a corn-cob pipe like dis,
Wid a stem as long as from you ter me,
An' a pocket chock full o' nigger-twis'.
KYARLINA JIM.
(Fisherman's hft, ChJesapeake flatv, I876.)
WHEN you was here, some sixteen year
Or so aback, you says,
A darkey named Kyarlina Jim
He fished f'om dis here place
Iat vonder's him-Kyarlinia Jim-
On de bench (lar by de do'
lie lhavc been ole an' weak an' biine
Sence dat long time ago.
Yes, dat's de -way lhe spen's each day
O de blessed year, Idout fall
Wid face turned out'ards to'ds de Bay,
Like watcblin fur a sail.
AYARLIJVA JIM.
Eben when clouds 'till come in crowds,
An' beatin' win's ull blow,
He still keeps settin' pashunt dar
In his ole place by de do'.
An' de sweet sunlight, 'tis jes' like night
Ter po' Kyarlina Jim;
He's weak an' bline, an' rain an shine
Is all de same ter nim.
Dat chile you see dar on his knee,
She never fails ter come,
About dis time o' ev'ry day,
Ter fetch Kyarlina home.
I seldom cries; but when my eves
Lights on de chile an' Jim,
Dar's sumpin' sort o' makes me feel
Kind ter his gal atn' him.
I I
12 K-YARLLNVA JIM.
Another chile he los', long while
Ago, Ise ficerd him say,
Is out dar waitin' in a boat,
On de blue waves o' de Bay.
I 'spec's, beca'se o' what he says,
Dat chile he los' 'ull come
'Fo' Iong, jes' like dis here one does,
An' fetch Kyarlina home.
" DE OLE 'OMAN AN' ME."
WEF doesn't live as cnst we did
De grub's done struck a change;
An' when I mentions ash-cake now,
My wife she thinks it strange.
She's got sot-up dese las' few years,
An' wheat-bread's all de go;
But, somehow, seenms I'd like ter tas'e
Some ask-cake-pcne onst mo'.
De buttermilk has (lone give way
Ter tea an' coffee now;
"An' possum-fat," she always says,
"Is low-flung grub, nohow!"
4 "DE OLE 'OMIAN AN' AME."
She doesn' ever foot it now,
Like how she used ter do;
But drives my yaller mule ter town,
An' wushes he was two!
She hasn' had a homespun coat
For many a long day,
But V'ars de fines' sort o' clo'es,
Made jes' de white folks' way.
She doesn' call me " Ichabod,"
Or " Ich," or " Ole Fool," now
An' ef I mentioned " Anniky,"
'T 'ud sartin raise a row.
'Tis " Mister Brown " an' " Mistis Brown,"
Ontwel it seems ter me
We's done gone changed our nat'rel selves
F'om what we used ter be.
14
"DE OLE 'OMA1N4-V AN' .il ." "
I know, beca'se a, how Ise tried
An' never seed it gee,
It's awful hard ter teach new tricks
Ter ole dogs sich as me.
Dat broad-clof coat she made me buy,
It don't feel half so good
As dat ole jeans I used ter w'ar
A-cuttin' Marster's wood.
An' beefsteak ain't for sich as me,
Instid o' possu:;n-fat;
An' " Mister Brown " ain't " Ichabod
I can't git over dat !
So Mistis Brown may go ter town,
A drivin' o' dat mule,
Jes' when she likes; but, sartin sho',
I ain't gwi' play de fool !
I :
"-, 011/ '0t1/. At AX' 1,_'."
An' as fur her insistin' how
DaE I should try ter learn
Dem A B C's de chillun reads-
'Tis no consarn o' her'n.
I doesn' keer what grub she eats,
Or what she calls herself,
Or ef she has a bofy now
'Stid o' a cubbud-shelf;
I doesn' keer how fine her clo'es,
May be, or what's de style-
I'm able fur ter pay fur dat,
An' has been so some while.
Dar's only one o' all her ways
Gits over me fur sho'-
I p'int'ly hones fur possum-fat
An' ash-cake-pone onst mo'
ZEKYL'S INFIDELITY.
MISTIS, I r'al'y wish you'd hole
A little conversation
Wid my old Zekyl 'bout his soul.
Dat nigger's. sitiwation
Is mons'us serious, 'deed 'n' 'tis,
'Skusin' he change clat co'se o' his.
Dat evil sinner's sot he face
Gin ev'v wyid I know;
Br'er Gabrul say, he's fell from grace,
An' Hell is ;ot him sho'.
He don' believe in sperits,
'Skusin' 'tis out a jug!
2
8 EK YL'ES IA-F.LDEL'L it
Say 'tain' got no mo' merits
Den a ole half-cured lug;
'N' dat white cat I see right late,
One evelin' nigh de grave-yard gate,
Warn' nuttin' sep some ole cat whar
Wuz sot on suppin' off old l.yah.
He 'oont allow a rooster,
By crowin' in folks' do',
Kin bring death dyah ; and useter
Say, lie xvish mine would crow.
An' he even say, a hin mout try,
Sep wvomen-folks would git so spry,
An' wvant to stick deeselves up den,
An' try to crow over de men.
Say 'tain' no good in preachin'
Dat ni-gers is sich fools-
Don' know no mo' 'bout teachin'
'N white folks does 'bout mules
I18
/ZA'K-YL' I J 1.\7T1ij, 19,Y,
An' whenl br'er Ga-brul's hollered tell
You mos' kin see righlt into Hell,
An' rambled Scriptures fit to bus',
Dat hard-mouf nigger's wus an' wuis.
Say quality (dis is mainer
'N all Ise told you. yit)-
Savs 'tain' no better 'n 'arf-strainer
An' dat hi's master'll git
Good place in Heaven-po' white folks, mark!-
As y'all whar comne right out de ark
An' dat-now jes' heah dis !-dat lhe,
A po'-white-folks' nigger's good as me!
He's gwine straighlt to de deble
An' sarve him ;jes' right, too
He's a outdacious rebel,
Arter all Ise done do !-
Ise sweat an' arguified an' blowed
Over dat black nigger mo'
19
20 /PK'I' IA, L .N AL,/1TY
'N Nvotild 'a' teck a c'inal-boat load
Over to Canyan sho'!
Ise tried ;-efeelion-'twarn' no whar!
Ise wrastled wid de Lord in pra'r;
Ise qtioiled tell I wuz mos' daid;
Ise th'owed de spider at his haid-
But he ole haid 'twuz so thick th'oo
Hit btus' my skillit spang in two.
You kin dye black hyah an' meck it light;
You kin tu'n de Ethiope's spots to white;
You mout grow two or three cubits bigger-
But you carn't onchange a po'-white-folks' nigger.
When you's dwellin' on golden harps an' chunes,
A po'-white-folks' nigger's thinkin' 'bout coons;
An' when you's snifflin' de heaven'y blossoms,
A po'-white-folks' nigger's studyin' 'bout possums.
20
OLE LAUGHIN'.
WHEN I was a boy in Ferginyer,
At de plantation down on de Jeems,
Years aback 'fo' de war kim, an' freedom-
What a long time ago it all seems!-
Mv Marster he owned an ole nigger
Dat de wvhite folks, beca'sc o' his mouf,
Never called nothin' 'ceptin' " Ole Lauglhin',`
Down dar in de Souf.
He had de mos' cur'uses' notions
'Botit jokin' an' havin' o' fun.
An' dar wasn't no stoppin' dat darkeA.
Hf cvur he onst had begun.
02 E LA UGILIV'.
Ise seed him like bustin' his wveskit
A-lagliin' at things dat most folk-
Spite o' whatever funny he foun' dar-
Never 'sidered a joke.
He would laugh when his chillun was crvin',
He wvould laug.h when de cryin' was done
Seems like evvything struck him ridic'1'Tus
Dat de Lord has made onder de sun;
An whatever frolic dar happened
'.Mongst de darkeys, ef Laug-hin' warn't dar
Things mos'ly wvent on purty solemn-
For dey missed him, I 'clar'.
Ise seed folk whose laughin' was hurtin',
Seemin' like it was scornful some wny
But his'n warn't dat sort o' music-
As diff'rent as night-time f'oni dav.
22
OLE L;A UGIZIA'. 3
When he opened den- jaw-bones o' his'n
An' let it all out in one ro',
EvvN body what heerd hinin lau-ghed wid him
An' wanted some mo'.
Laughin' seemed ter take life sort o' cur'us,
For I never did know him ter cry
But sometimes Ise noticed a misty
Sort o' sorrowful look in his eve.
Ole Marster he said: " philos'pher
Ole Laughin' is, sartin an' sho';
He looks on de bri-ht side o' all thlings,
An' who can do nm'
When Marster got sick, an' deceasded,
An' de coffin sot dar on de groun
By de grave, all de plantation darkeys
Kim weepin' an' moanin' aroun';
23
o24 LE .E-1 UGIIZN.
An' Laughin' was dar, but de devil,
In spite o' de grief in his face,
Seemed ter have a grip on him as uIsual,
Eben dar at dat place-
For when, arter de words, " Dus' ter ashes!
De Preacher stood silent in pra'r,
Ole LaLghlin' he 'rupted de silence
Wid his reg'lar music, I 'clar'
But he didn' live long arter Marster,
An' he died wid a snmile on his mouf.
Dev bofe on 'era sleeps in Ferginver,
D)own dar in de Souf.
24
EBO.
ALL o' dese here doin's
Don't suit me;
Ise an ole-time nigger-
Don't you see
Dis here eddication's
Humbug, sho';
It's done played de devil
Wid Ebo.
Somewhar Tout
Dicey she
Tuk'n' struck a
Don't you see
lars' summer,
notion-
26 i B.
Says she : " Ise been thinkin'."
An' I says
"What you done thunk, honey '
Says she: "Yes,
"Ise been thinkin' mons'ous
'Bout Ebo;
Ile's fo'teen +ear ole now-
Don't you know "
S'I: "Ole 'oman, you is
Right, I 'spec'
Dar's fo'teen-he kim fus'-
Dat's kerrec' !"
Says she: " He's a-growin
Up a fool;
An' Ise gwinc tel scn' hilml
Ter (le school."
26
EBO.
Bein's how it looked like
She was bent
On de projick, Ebo
Tuk 'n' went.
An' sence dat lars' summer-
Don't vou see -
Dat 'ar boy have p'int'ly
Outdone me!
Whe-ew! de norrations,
Dem o' his'n !
Urnph ! I 'busses laughin'
Jes' ter lissen !
What you think dat Ebo
Come tell me
Dat all dis here y'arth here-
Flat, you see-
27
EBO.
Dat it's roun', an' rolls jes'
Like a ball!
Ebo, dat's a lie," I
Says, " dat's all !
"Don't you see yer Mammy,
Evvy night,
Set de water-piggin
Out o' sight
"Ob you chillun, up dar
On de shelf -
Now, Mars' Spellin'-booker,
'Splain yerself-
"Sunrise, dat 'ar water's
In dar still;
Ef de y'arth turned over,
It 'ud spill !"
28
EBO. 2
But he keeps resistin'
It are so-
Eddication's done gone
Sp'ilt Ebo.
He's forever tellin'
Some sich lie;
He's gwi' fine out better
By-urni-by.
Ef Ebo keeps l'arnin'
At dat school,
Nex' thing, he'll be provin'
Ise a fool
I are p'int'ly gwine ter
Take Ebo
Way f'oin dat ar school-'ouse,
Sartin sho' !
29
DEPARTED LUCK.
JOHN, put one nio' stick on de harf. Jes' one
Well, lay it on;
An' den we'll freeze afo' we starve, beca'se de
bread's all gone.
My trem'lin' lim's won't hole out long; an' what's
de use ter pray
Lord, pity dese po' niggers who has gin dere luck
away!
You's been too sick ter do a bit o' work sence dat
'ar time
I started down ter Denny's store, an' foun' dat silber
dime
DEPART.ED L( L'CAK.
Jes' in de turnin' o' de road; an', like a fool dat day,
Instid o' keepin' it, I tuk an' gin my luck away.
John, don't you 'member, long ago, when iittle Bill
was born,
We worked down at (le Edgeworth place, amongst
ole Marster's corn
De eatin's dat we used ter have, an' not a cent ter
pay-
Dat time when we wvas never 'feard ter give our
luck away
A little while aback, when you was layin' moanin'
dar,
I kep' a-thinkin' o' dem days, an' tried ter turn ter
pra'r;
Btit, somchow, evvy bit o' pra'r dis w'ared-out mouf
could say
Was, " Lord, for dat 'ar time, afo' I gin my luck
away! "
3 1
DEPAR TE) LUCA-
An' den it seemed like, sho' enuf, it had come back
onst mo'-
Seemed like I seed Miss Ellen dar, a-standin' in
de do',
Jes' like as how she used ter come each Chris'nius,
wvid a tray
O' Chris'mus things, long, long afo' I gin my luck
away.
Seemed like I heerd de music dat de white folks
always had
Up at de Gre't House, Chris'mus-time, when evvy
soul was glad;
Seemed like a gre't big fyer burned here on de harf,
some way;
I thought we never had been po', an' gin our luck
away.
32
DEP:ARTE D LUYC3.
An' you was settin' over dar, an' Bill
A playin' like he used ter play in
ago;
But den de cole gript on me, an' de
den stay:
We're weak an' starvin', John, beca'se
away.
wvas on de flu,
dat long time
dream it wud-
I gin my luck
But take it easy, John ! I know we never is gwi'
see
Sich days as dem ag'in; 'fo' long dey'il bury you
an' me.
Bread gone, de little stick burnt out ; de embers
gittin' gray-
Lord, fetch us whar we never mo' can give our
luck away!
3
33
KREE.
MY boy Kree
He played wid you when you was a chile
You an' lie
Growed up tergether Wait! Lemme see!
Closer ! so I can look in yer face
Mars' George's smilc !
Lord love you, Marster!
Dar 'neaf dat cypress is whar Kree lays.
Sunburnt an' grown
Mars' George, I shudden ha' knowed you, son
'Count o' de beard dat yer face has on,
But for dat ole-time smile (' your'n-
KAWEE. 3
An' Kree " you say.
Hadn't you heerd, Marster,
He 'ceasded de year dat you wvent away
Kree an' you
How de ole times comes back onst mo'-
Moonlight fishin's, an' hyars in de sno';
Squirrels an' jaybirds tip overhead,
In de oak-trees dat de sun shined through !-
Look at w-e, Marster!
Here is me livin' an' Kree, he's dead.
'Pears ter me strange
Now, when I thinks on 'em, dose ole years:
Mars' George, sometimes de b'ilin' tears
Fills tup my eyes,
'Count o' de mizery now, an' de change-
De sun dims, Marster,
Ter an ole man, when his one boy dies.
3 5
KREE.
Did you say " Ilow "
Out in de dug-out, one moonshine night,
Fishin' wvid your baby brother-he
Wid de curls o' yaller, like streaks o' light,
An' de dancin' big blue eyes. Dead, now-.
Kree died for him;
An' yearnin' for Kree,
De Lord tuk him, Marster:
De green grass kivers 'em bofe f'om sight.
Heerd o' de tale
Didn' know Kree was de one dat drowned
Savin' Mars' Charley Well, 'twere he.
De boy waxed weaker, his face mo' pale,
Arter de corpse o' poor Kree were found.
Two months later he went, you see:
God bless you, Marster!
Nine years has rolled over bofe onder ground.
36
k-REE. 37
Worn out an' gray,
Here I sets waitin', Mars' George, alone.
All on 'em's gone-
Marster an' Mistis, an' Charley an' he.
You an' me only is lef'. Some day,
When you's gone 1)ack ter yer ship on de sea,
I'll hear h.m say,
Jes' as he used ter, a-fishin', ter me:
" Daddy, come offer! " An' passin' away,
Dat side de river, again I'll be
Wid my boy Kree.
" MINE OYSTER."
No, it never did agree wid de likes o' dis here nig-
ger,
For de a'r is sort o' stiflin' twix' dese mountains,
Eas' an' Wes'
Evvy blessed year 1 lives here, seems dese hills is
growin' bigger
Ter de miz'ry in my knee-j'ints an' de trouble in
my ches'.
Ise a Tuckahoe Ferginyan f'om Tide-water of Fer-
ginver,
Whar de oshters am delishus an' de fish is hard ter
beat;
"MINVE OYSTER."
Lord, I hasn' seed an oshter, in de time dat I has
been here,
Dat dis nigger have cornsidered fittin' any ways
ter eat.
Dey fetches 'em in cans tip, dese here railroad sojer-
fellows,
An' it takes a good day's workin' ter perkture an
oshter-stew.
Dese ain't nothin' but runt-oshters; yet de reste-
ranters tell us
Dat dey come f'onm Mobjack Bay, sir. Pshaw!
I know dat can't be true
I lived down dar myself onst, an' I think I l'arnt de
fashion
O' dem oshters in dat water-shape, an' size, an'
ta'se, an' all;
39
" 4il/ME 0 I'STEAe'. "
Dis here darkey may be ign'ant, an' widout no ed'
dication,
But a Mobjack oshter p'int'ly is beknownst ter
Uncle Saul.
You may brag o' roasted possum an' de glories o'
hog-killin',
You can 'numerate de hom'ny, you can shout de
ole ash-cake;
But one dish o' Mobjack oshters, an' ole Saul is
p'int'ly willin'
Ter denounce de other eatin's for de Mobjack
oshters' sake!
Umph! dis mouf o' mine jes' waters at de thought
o' dem dar critters-
Fried, an' baked, an' stewed, an' raw ones-how
we 'stroyed 'em down dar;
40
" AI11VA" 0 YSTER. 4
Soft as mush, an' f'arly better dan merlasses on yer
fritters-
But de glory am departed, an' dem oshters ain't
nowhar!
I have trabbled through Ferginyer sence Mars'
Linkum sont de freedom;
I have cotch 'em, an' I've eat 'em, Norf an' Souf
an' Eas' an' Wes'.
Oh, dey's prime at Glcrster P'int ; dar it's mighty
hard ter beat 'enm;
But de oshters fo'm ole Mobjack am de sugares'
an' bes'.
It is seben year, an' ober, sence I 'zided in dat sec-
tion,
An' I'm 'feared dis hil.y Valley 'ull lay on me when
I die;
41
42, -1A7A 'L 'ST'ERA'."
But I holds de ole Tide-water in my warmes' ree-
collection,
An' I'd like ter slip down dar onst nmo' an' make
dem oshters fly.
I would like ter eat demn oshters 'twel I perish jes'
f'om eatin';
Dat's de kind o' death dat seems like it 'ud suit
yer Uncle Saul.
Yes, I'd ruther go dat way, sir, dan ter drap down
dead in meetin';
Fur ter die f'om eatin' osliters is de sweetes'
death o' all.
42
POKE O' MOONSHINE.
MOONSHINE Yes, sir,
Right smart ahead;
Ten mile, at bes', sir.
Git down an' res', sir,
Outen de rain.
Onder dat shed
Is a good place ter tie him,
Or Joe can stan' by him
'Twel you's readv ter set out again.
" Know Poke o' Moonshine
Yes, sir, I docs.
-Marster, you won't fine
Many o' his kine
44POKE 0' MOONVS1IN'E.
'Roun' dis here way!-
Much as he was
Sence I remember;
Ole John's December
Is haler dan mos' folkses' May.
Moonshine Played outi
When dey was rich,
'Twas widout doubt
De fines' about-
Pictur's an' things,
Flowers an' sich-
All sorts o' doin's:
Now it's in ruins-
But dat's what wvar gen'tilly brings.
Moonshine 'bout den
'Longed ter Mars' Sidney.
All o' de men
O' dat family's been
44
POKE O' MOO-NSZh1VE. 45
Purty good grit-
Folks o' fine kidney;
So, when de war kim,
Nothin' could Lender him
But what he mus' go inter it.
John Poke, o' co'se,
Went in dar, too;
Mis' Agnes stays
Home, jes' beca'se
Wimen can't b'ar
What men goes through-
Lovely an' young she were,
When Mars' Sid went f'om her
Ter be shot in dat turrible war.
Home kim John Poke
Wid de lad dead:
" In all de smoke
An' de fightin' he spoke
45
46 POKE 0 AlOONSHIN4.
Ter me only," says he,
"An' here's what he said:
'John, take good keer o' her-
Guard de welfare o' her--
Ef death comes betwix' heran' me.'
All dese here years
John Poke have been
True ter dem tears.
Moonshine affairs
Mars' Sid' lef' bad;
John's been a frien'-
So he has keered fur her,
What he's had, spared fur her,
All fur de sake o' dat lad.
Dat's a fine hoss!
Lead him out, Joe!
Rain's over, boss;
Not much time los'
46
IPOA'E 60 ' Af 0 c-iWSfiXA.V 4
Stoppin' wid me-
Gently, dar! whoa!
Marster, in passin' by
On yer way back, sir, I
Hope you'll tell me how John
Poke may be,
Switch, sir I says
You'll hardly fine
Sich, nowadays;
'Speshly dey's skase
'Roun' dis here way,
Men o' his kine.
I'm de man orter know
Better dan mos' folks, sho'.
My daddy, sir Yes, sir. Good-day!
47
THE LAMENT OF ORPHEUS.
BEEN travellin' " Don't you see I is
" Whar ter," hey Ole Green Su'phur:
I tried it for my rheumatic,
An' never knowed it rougher.
I used ter go dar long ago,
When I was young an' healthy:
It ain't like what it was, you know,
When Souvern folks was wealthy.
Wel], yes; I s'pose as many now
Goes dar, as used ter go dar:
But seems like it have changed somehow-
Sersi'ty's gittin' low dar.
THE LAMEVT 0F ORPfE US.
Ise knowed de time de F. F. V.'s
An' none else run it, honey:
But things is changed; an' so, you sees
All goes dat's got de money.
When Marster sot out evvy June,
Sometime about de middle,
I always went ; an' many a chune
Ise played dar on dis fiddle:
But fiddlin' now is done gone out,
An' brass ban's is de fashion,
An' Garmnins ; riot a night widout
De Garmin like de nation!
You never seen de Garmin, hey
You orter seen it, honey;
Jes' take an' go down dar, some day;
It's p'int'ly wmlti de money.
4
49
50 THE LAME'1VT OF OAi'IL US.
You never seed a monkey-show
Could ever stan' a-showin'
Ter one o' dem things all ago,
WVid all de ban' a-blowin'.
You knows de ole Ferginyer Reel,
Whar two goes down de middle
I never think o't 'daut I feel
A hankerin' fur dis fiddle.
Dat was a dance an F. F. V.
.Mought well be proud ter dance in;
But dis here Garmin-I can't see
How white folks stan's sich prancin'!
"How does dey dance de Garmin " Well,
De ban' it 'gins ter sizzle;
An' den, befo' you's time ter tell,
A fellow blows a, whistle;
TL/ZE, LA AZEL7 OF ORPILE L. E'.
An' den de ladies an' de men
Dey takes an' grabs each other,
An' spins an' whirls an' spins agen-
An' never lets go, nuther!
I know de white folks knows a heap,
An' Ise jes' an ole nigger
Wid brains 'bout big enough ter keep
F'om gittin' hurt-no bigger;
But, somehow, it do look ter me
Like things had. got alarinin',
Ter see an ole-time F. F. V.
A-dancin' dis new Garmin.
Well, sence my trip down dar I feel
Like hangin' up de fiddle.
Dey's done forsook de fine ole reel,
Whar two goes down de middle;
5 1
;2 TfFH LA MENT Of' ORPI! F'1S.
An' ole-time folks an' ole-time chunes
Is woted miighty slow dar-
For monkey ban's an' whistlin' l(-Kons
Has run sersi'ty low dar'
LOFTY AND LOWLY.
DE white man's got de 'vantage
O' le cullud pusson, sartin:
You's done been free
Longer dan mne-
An' dat's one thing in startin'.
You never worked terbarker,
Bta tuLk it out at college;
I never looks
Inter de Books-
You has me on sich knowledge.
I ain't got no high notions,
Let 'lone de eddication;
5 LOFTY AND LOWLY.
Nor money 'twel
You can't stan' still-
As much as all creation!
My wife don't play de panny,
Nor drive brash hosses, nuther
Nor w'ar fine clo'es,
Like she o' your's-
Mine's some below dat, ruther!
But lissen at me, Marster:
I knows all dese things fits you
0' co'se, you ought
Ter have dis sort-
But dar's one place I gits you
I don't have harf de worry
What troubles your life, honey;
54
LO/107Y flAA) LOWVLY.
De bank, you see,
MIought bus' for me-
I wudden lose no money!
Ef all your bocks an' pictur's
Was somehow ter git 'stroyed,
Marster, I know
Dat, sartin sho',
You'd mourn for what you's 'joyed.
You never is contented
You wants yer big pile bigger;
Ain't I kerrec',
Den, when I 'spec'
You's outdone by a nigger
"GOD KNOWS."
TEL1L you a tale, eh Bless de chillun!
It's been sich a very long time ago
Dat I don't know whether I ain't forgotten
All o' dem tales dat I used ter know.
Your daddy was always axin' fur 'em,
When he was a chap, jes' like you two.
Ise tole him lots; but I disremember-
It's been so long-all de bes' I knew.
'Twas a wile March mont', an' de win' was blowin'-
Blowin' great guns, de sailors say;
De water was foamin', an' all de riggin