de pidgins ter
     roos’. 
You may know de way, but better keep yo’ eyes on de seven stairs. 
All de buzzards in de settlement ’ll come to de gray mule’s
     funer’l. 
You k’n hide de fier, but w’at you gwine do wid de smoke? 
Termorrow may be de carridge-driver’s day for ploughin’. 
Hit’s a mighty deaf nigger dat don’t year de dinner-ho’n. 
Hit takes a bee fer ter git de sweetness out’n de hoar-houn’
     blossom. 
Ha’nts don’t bodder longer hones’ folks, but you better go ‘roun’
     de grave-yard. 
De pig dat runs off wid de year er corn gits little mo’ dan
     de cob. 
Sleepin’ in de fence-cornder don’t fetch Chrismus in de kitchen. 
De spring-house may freeze, but de niggers ’ll keep de shuck-pen
     warm. 
‘Twix’ de bug en de bee-martin ’tain’t hard ter tell w’ich
     gwineter git kotch. 
Don’t ’sput wid de squinch-owl.  Jam de shovel in de fier. 
You’d see mo’ er de mink ef he know’d whar de yard dog sleeps. 
Troubles is seasonin’. 
’Simmons ain’t good twel dey ’er fros’-bit. 
Watch out w’en you’er gittin all you want.  Fattenin’ hogs ain’t
     in luck.

HIS SONGS

I. REVIVAL HYMN

Oh, whar shill we go w’en de great day comes,
Wid de blowin’ er de trumpits en de bangin’ er de drums? 
How many po’ sinners’ll be kotched out late
En fin’ no latch ter de golden gate? 
No use fer ter wait twel termorrer! 
De sun mus’n’t set on yo’ sorrer,
Sin’s ez sharp ez a bamboo-brier-
Oh, Lord! fetch de mo’ners up higher!

W’en de nashuns er de earf is a stan’in all aroun,
Who’s a gwineter be choosen fer ter w’ar de glory-crown? 
Who’s a gwine fer ter stan’ stiff-kneed en bol’. 
En answer to der name at de callin’ er de roll? 
You better come now ef you comin’—­
Ole Satun is loose en a bummin’—­
De wheels er distruckshun is a hummin’—­
Oh, come long, sinner, ef you comin’!

De song er salvashun is a mighty sweet song,
En de Pairidise win’ blow fur en blow strong,
En Aberham’s bosom, hit’s saft en hit’s wide,
En right dar’s de place whar de sinners oughter hide! 
Oh, you nee’nter be a stoppin’ en a lookin’;
Ef you fool wid ole Satun you’ll git took in;
You’ll hang on de aidge en get shook in,
Ef you keep on a stoppin’ en a lookin’.

De time is right now, en dish yer’s de place—­
Let de sun er salvashun shine squar’ in yo’ face;
Fight de battles er de Lord, fight soon en fight late,
En you’ll allers fine a latch ter de golden gate. 
No use fer ter wait twel termorrer,
De sun musn’t set on yo’ sorrer—­
Sin’s ez sharp ez a bamboo-brier,
Ax de Lord fer ter fetch you up higher!

II.  CAMP-MEETING SONG *

Oh, de worril is roun’ en de worril is wide—­
Lord! ’member deze chillun in de mornin’—­