American Ballads and Folk Songs: page - 0301

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American Ballads and Folk Songs
How kin you blame po' man f um cryin',
When his babe ain' dead, but slowly dyin'?
Well, I followed her down to de buryin' groun',
You oughta heered me holler, when dey let her down.
I took my babe to de buryin' groun'j
I never knowed I loved her, till de coffin soun\
I wen' to de graveyard, peeped in my mama's face,
"Ain' it hard to see you, mama, in dis lonesome place?"
When I was out in West Texas, I was gom* f'um do' to do%
I was broke an' was hungry, didn' have no place to go,
An* da's de reason, baby, I jes' wants to know,
Kin I lay down here until day?
I'm a stranger in yo' town, am' got no place to stay.
The Negro laborer, drifting from town to town and from job to job, makes his appeal for sympathy—and a soft bed. Perhaps, he plucks by the elbow some woman who passes him on the street, and begs her to take him home.

E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III