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NIGGER 'LASSES |
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Everything went round;
When I waked up in a hour er two,
I was spraddled on de ground 1
En I was jest a-hnmmin', —
Oh, dere ain't no horse what can't be rode, Dat's what de white folks say! En dere ain't a man what can't be throwed, OH, MAH! —
1 finds it jest dat way!
Den dey cotched dat horse too quick to suit,
En brought him back ter me,
En I hobbled my stirrups en wrapped my rowels,
En I hollered, "Turn him free!"
Den he bent en he twisted, en he bowed en he
moaned, En done der grand grape-vine; I waked up a-straddle of er cactus bush, But dis song I had in mind, —
Oh, dere ain't no horse what can't be rode, Dat's what de white folks say! En dere ain't a man what can't be throwed, OH, MAH! —
I finds it jest dat way!
Den I grabs dat bronc en I piles aboard,
Says I, " Ole horse, good-bye 1
I'se got yo' number sure dis time,
I doan care what yer try!"
Bout den he gimme de ole sun-fish,
Rail-fence, en do-se-do;
En it broke my heart fer us ter part,
But I had ter let him go — |
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