|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
BLUE GRASS BALLADS 15
Another thing I'm gwine to do,
When the corn's laid by; I'm gwine ter lick that Hogan crew,
When the corn's laid by. Ef 'twarnt for losing, from the plow, A day—er mo'—I'd do it now, An' so I reckin I kin wait, For sholy hit woan be too late,
When the corn's laid by.
MY OWN KENTUCKY GIRL.
Young Cupid's bow is modeled
By the curve of that sweet mouth, And her breath is like the perfume
Of the breezes from the south; Her hair is fair and golden,
And her eye is clear and blue; Her laugh is rippling, richest wine;
Her heart is fresh and true.
She comes to meet me, flying,
And her welcome's like the spring, With smiles and tears of gladness,
And she makes my old heart sing. Tis light and life to meet her,
And there's chaste and perfect bliss When she lifts her face and gives me
A daughter's sweetest kiss.