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American Ballads and Folk Songs
Ain't no use for me workin' hard, I got a gal in the white folk's yard, Sift the flour and reach at the lard, Wasn't for the bulldog I'd be in the yard.
He might bite me, bad bulldog,
In the morning when the good Lord sets me free.
Ol' Marse Jack come ridin' by-
"Say, Marse Jack, dat mule's gwine to die."
"Ef he die, I'll tan his skin,
An' if he don't, I'll ride him ag'in."
Peter Jackson, tall and black, Hit Billy Chavers the finishing crack, Jumped on de train and yanked de cord, Now he's presented to an English Lord!
Fightin' nigger! Den-a you shall be free, When de good Lord sets you free.
Nigger be a nigger whatever he do: Tie red ribbon round the toe of his shoe, Jerk his vest on over his coat, Snatch his britches up round his throat.
Singing high-stepper, you shall be free, When the good Lord sets you free.
I went down to hog-eye town, Dey sot me down to table, I eat so much of dat hog-eye grease, Till de grease ran out my nable.