W’y dat squir’l dat jes’ run past us, ef I did n’ know his tricks,
    I could swaih he ’d got ‘uligion jes’ to-day;
  An’ dem liza’ds slippin’ back an’ fofe ermong de stones an’ sticks
    Is a-wigglin’ ’cause dey feel so awful gay. 
  Oh, I see yo’ eyes a-shinin’ dough you try to mek me b’lieve
    Dat you ain’ so monst’ous happy ’cause you come;
  But I tell you dis hyeah weathah meks it moughty ha’d to ’ceive
    Ef a body’s soul ain’ blin’ an’ deef an’ dumb.

  Robin whistlin’ ovah yandah ez he buil’ his little nes’;
    Whut you reckon dat he sayin’ to his mate? 
  He’s a-sayin’ dat he love huh in de wo’ds she know de bes’,
    An’ she lookin’ moughty pleased at whut he state. 
  Now, Miss Lucy, dat ah robin sholy got his sheer o’ sense,
    An’ de hen-bird got huh mothah-wit fu’ true;
  So I t’ink ef you ‘ll ixcuse me, fu’ I do’ mean no erfence,
    Dey ‘s a lesson in dem birds fu’ me an’ you.

  I ‘s a-buil’in’ o’ my cabin, an’ I ‘s vines erbove de do’
    Fu’ to kin’ o’ gin it sheltah f’om de sun;
  Gwine to have a little kitchen wid a reg’lar wooden flo’,
    An’ dey ’ll be a back verandy w’en hit ’s done. 
  I ‘s a-waitin’ fu’ you, Lucy, tek de ‘zample o’ de birds,
    Dat ‘s a-lovin’ an’ a-matin’ evahwhaih. 
  I cain’ tell you dat I loves you in de robin’s music wo’ds,
    But my cabin ‘s talkin’ fu’ me ovah thaih!

JOGGIN’ ERLONG

  De da’kest hour, dey allus say,
  Is des’ befo’ de dawn,
  But it’s moughty ha’d a-waitin’
  W’ere de night goes frownin’ on;
  An’ it’s moughty ha’d a-hopin’
  W’en de clouds is big an’ black,
  An’ all de t’ings you ‘s waited fu’
  Has failed, er gone to wrack—­
  But des’ keep on a-joggin’ wid a little bit o’ song,
  De mo’n is allus brightah w’en de night’s been long.

  Dey ‘s lots o’ knocks you ’s got to tek
  Befo’ yo’ journey ’s done,
  An’ dey ’s times w’en you ‘ll be wishin’
  Dat de weary race was run;
  W’en you want to give up tryin’
  An’ des’ float erpon de wave,
  W’en you don’t feel no mo’ sorrer
  Ez you t’ink erbout de grave—­
  Den, des’ keep on a-joggin’ wid a little bit o’ song,
  De mo’n is allus brightah w’en de night’s been long.

  De whup-lash sting a good deal mo’
  De back hit ‘s knowed befo’,
  An’ de burden ‘s allus heavies’
  Whaih hits weight has made a so’;
  Dey is times w’en tribulation
  Seems to git de uppah han’
  An’ to whip de weary trav’lah
  ’Twell he ain’t got stren’th to stan’—­
  But des’ keep on a-joggin’ wid a little bit o’ song,
  De mo’n is allus brightah w’en de night’s been long.

IN MAY

  Oh to have you in May,
    To talk with you under the trees,
  Dreaming throughout the day,
    Drinking the wine-like breeze,