Dey had a gread big pahty down to Tom’s de othah night;
  Was I dah?  You bet!  I nevah in my life see sich a sight;
  All de folks f’om fou’ plantations was invited, an’ dey come,
  Dey come troopin’ thick ez chillun when dey hyeahs a fife an’ drum. 
  Evahbody dressed deir fines’—­Heish yo’ mouf an’ git away,
  Ain’t seen no sich fancy dressin’ sence las’ quah’tly meetin’ day;
  Gals all dressed in silks an’ satins, not a wrinkle ner a crease,
  Eyes a-battin’, teeth a-shinin’, haih breshed back ez slick ez grease;
  Sku’ts all tucked an’ puffed an’ ruffled, evah blessed seam an’ stitch;
  Ef you ’d seen ’em wif deir mistus, could n’t swahed to which was which. 
  Men all dressed up in Prince Alberts, swaller-tails ‘u’d tek yo’ bref! 
  I cain’t tell you nothin’ ‘bout it, y’ ought to seen it fu’ yo’se’f. 
  Who was dah?  Now who you askin’?  How you ’spect I gwine to know? 
  You mus’ think I stood an’ counted evahbody at de do.’ 
  Ole man Babah’s house-boy Isaac, brung dat gal, Malindy Jane,
  Huh a-hangin’ to his elbow, him a-struttin’ wif a cane;
  My, but Hahvey Jones was jealous! seemed to stick him lak a tho’n;
  But he laughed with Viney Cahteh, tryin’ ha’d to not let on,
  But a pusson would ‘a’ noticed f’om de d’rection of his look,
  Dat he was watchin’ ev’ry step dat Ike an’ Lindy took. 
  Ike he foun’ a cheer an’ asked huh:  “Won’t you set down?” wif a smile,
  An’ she answe’d up a-bowin’, “Oh, I reckon ’t ain’t wuth while.” 
  Dat was jes’ fu’ Style, I reckon, ‘cause she sot down jes’ de same,
  An’ she stayed dah ‘twell he fetched huh fu’ to jine some so’t o’ game;
  Den I hyeahd huh sayin’ propah, ez she riz to go away,
  “Oh, you raly mus’ excuse me, fu’ I hardly keers to play.” 
  But I seen huh in a minute wif de othahs on de flo’,
  An’ dah wasn’t any one o’ dem a-playin’ any mo’;
  Comin’ down de flo’ a-bowin’ an’ a-swayin’ an’ a-swingin’,
  Puttin’ on huh high-toned mannahs all de time dat she was singin’: 
  “Oh, swing Johnny up an’ down, swing him all aroun’,
  Swing Johnny up an’ down, swing him all aroun’,
  Oh, swing Johnny up an’ down, swing him all aroun’
  Fa’ you well, my dahlin’.” 
  Had to laff at ole man Johnson, he ’s a caution now, you bet—­
  Hittin’ clost onto a hunderd, but he ‘s spry an’ nimble yet;
  He ‘lowed how a-so’t o’ gigglin’, “I ain’t ole, I ’ll let you see,
  D’ain’t no use in gittin’ feeble, now you youngstahs jes’ watch me,”
  An’ he grabbed ole Aunt Marier—­weighs th’ee hunderd mo’ er less,
  An’ he spun huh ‘roun’ de cabin swingin’ Johnny lak de res’. 
  Evahbody laffed an’ hollahed:  “Go it!  Swing huh, Uncle Jim!”
  An’ he swung huh too, I reckon, lak a youngstah, who but him. 
  Dat was bettah ‘n young Scott Thomas, tryin’ to be so awful smaht. 
  You know when dey gits to singin’ an’ dey comes to dat ere paht: