I LUBS YOU, MY HONEY.
Copyright, 1898, by Frank Harding.
Words by Hal Homiston. Music by William Loraine.
Sal was mah honey when we was little nigs;
We used to chase all de chickens an' de pigs;
When we got bigger, I says, "Sally, I lube you."
Now we's married an' got a babby, too;
We nebber 'tought ob de happiness in store;
I had mah Sal an' I didn't cur' fo' mo',
But in de eb'nin when dat sma' boy I dun see,
I know 'xactly, he's our babby.
I lubs you, honey, I do, I do;
Nebber fought I could lab no one but you;
Wid joy I'se nearly wild, 'kase l'se got to lub dat child,
He's our babby pickaninny.
Jes' how it happened, I am blind, deaf and dumb;
Blest if I know whar dat little coon come from;
I'd be'n a-workin' 'way down in de cotton fiel',
Came to dinner an' heard dat babby squeel;
Old Aunt Malinda, she said it was a boy,
And dat it was a big choc'late drop o' joy;
She brought de chile out so dat I could plainly see
It looked like me, 'twas our babby.- Chorus.
I lubs mail honey from her head to her toes,
Jes' all I tink ob her why nobody knows,
She'e be'n mah better half las' June 'twas jes' a year;
Now dis babby's dun come to interfere,
But he's among us an' crept into mah heart;
Don't know what I'd do if we should have to part;
If our good Lord dun takes him, dis nig he'll die, too,
Climb to heaben wid our babby.-Chorus.