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BLUE GRASS BALLADS 63
Mammy herds the whooping youngsters— White and black—within her call;
Mistress scatters Christmas presents From the quarters to the hall.
Master storms, in anger's pretense,
In and out, about the place, But the soul of all his goodness
Glistens in his jolly face.
Love and joy, with song and dancing,
In the olden Southern ways, Tinted with the holy story,
Sped the happy holidays.
Now the banjo—harp of Southland—
Tuned with us in homely rhyme, Rest, and with it, 'neath the willow, " Christmas in the ole time." |
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WHEN THE JULEP'S RIPE.
Ole marster's feelin' mighty fine, En I kin tell what's on his mine', In cose de race time has to do Some little wid his feelin's too, But dat what's mos'ly pleasin' him, An' puttin' him in sich good trim, |
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