Bluegrass Ballads

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NEGRO DIALECT VERSES             217
Come stately steppin', oh, good Lawd,
Ton yo' lily-white steed, An' smash dem sassy niggahs down,
An' bruise de sarpint's seed. Dey howls at you de livelong night,
An' robs yo' of yo' sleep, 'Kase dey's too lazy fur to sow,
An' got no crap to reap.
I'se be'n a-trav'lin' thoo dis vale
Nigh on to eighty years, An' now my eyes is 'gun to fail
Wid weepin' bittah tears. My po' ole wife is goned above-
De way I'se gwine to jog— An' all dat's left fur me to love
Is dat ole yaller dog.
My chillun's scattered here an' thar,
An' wouldn' know me now, But we will pass de gates ajar,
At jedgment day, I 'low, An' while I make de 'stressful rounds
Thoo all de damp an' fog, Of dese yar wearisome low grounds,
I'se got dat yaller dog.