POOR OLD JEFF.
Tis just a year ago to-day,
That I remember well,
I sat down by poor Nelly's side,
And a story she did tell,
'Twas about a poor old darkie, Jeff,
That lived for many a year,
But now he's dead and in his grave,
No troubles does he fear.
For good old Jeff has gone to rest,
We know that he is free;
Disturb him not, but let him rest,
Way down Tennessee.
She took my arm, we walked along,
Into an open field,
And then she paused to breathe awhile,
Then to his grave did steal;
She sat down by that little mound,
And softly whispered there:
"Come to me, father, 'tis thy child,"
Then gently dropped a tear.-Chorus.
But since that time how things have changed!
Poor Nelly that was my bride.
Is laid beneath the cold grave sod,
Down by her father's side.,
I planted there upon the grave
The weeping willow tree,
I bathed its roots with many a tear,
That it might shelter me.-Chorus.
A Girls Best Friend is Her Lover.
Tune- "A Boy's Best Friend is His Mother."
A song to you I'll sing, 'tis a very common thing,
Which you see occuring every night,
You'll see men and women talking about most anything,
But eventually they wind up with a fight.
Yet there is one whose name forever shall remain,
When he's gone they will soon have another,
You are always sure to find girls are of a kind,
They all claim their best friend is their lover.
Them watch him very close, buy him lots of clothes,
So> he will look as neat as any other,
Give him lots of cash, but never let him mash.
And give all your hard-earned dollars to your lover.
Some lovers look like roughs, their hair cut close like toughs,
They steer around the joints to raise a row.
Sometimes they meet their match, a sleeper they will catch,
Who'll jam their nose clean up to their eye-brow.
Some lovers they are nice, some should be put on ice,
And some young ones should be sent home to their mother,
In my song I show to you, you will find it is quite true,
A girl's best friend is her lover.
Then hold him if you can, if he is a moneyed man,
Never let him go with any other,
Collar all his dust, yes, steal it if you must,
But make him remember he is the lover.
Sometimes girls say to you, "Whose baby is oke?"
And, "What will lovy do if dovy dies?"
Cigarettes they smoke, they are surely always broke.
They amuse themselves by telling each other lies.
You can bet your little boots, they always come to Roops,
When he is around they want no other.
Now I will end my song, perhaps it won't be long
Before you see some fairy and her lover.
Then always use him well, always make him tell,
If he hits been hugging any other.
When you get him to wed. just rap him on the head
I So he will remember he's your lover.