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NEGRO DIALECT VERSES 185
De mawnin' of yo' chilehood,
When happiness was here, An' you never thought to bother
'Bout de fall of de year.
Hit's gittin' to'des de evenin',
When you teks to lookin' back, An' de load is gittin' heavy
Whut you useter love to pack; When de sun is shinin' slantin',
An' sorrow seem a'near, Lak de song of dove a'mournin',
In de fall of de year.
ROSIE'S SUNDAY CLOTHES.
Um er talkin' mighty proper,
Whut um talkin' to you now; You gwine to 'gree wid all I say,
Er win' up in a row, Kase um tellin' to you, sassy,
Dat dey am' no gal lak Rose, When she blossom Sunday mawnin'
In her go-to-meetin' clo'se.
Rose, Rose, my sweet Rose! Ain' she a stunner