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NEGRO FOLK RHYMES |
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So on a Mond'y mornin' I tuck her fer my wife. Of co'se I wus 'spectfn' an agreeable life. But on a Chuesd'y mornin' she chuned up her pipe, An' she 'bused me more 'an I'd been 'bused all my life.
On a Wednesd'y evenin', as I come 'long home, I says to myse'f dat she wus all my own; An' on a Thursd'y night I went out to de woods, An' I cut me two big fine tough leatherwoods.
So on a Frid'y mornin' w'en she roll me 'er eyes, I retched fer my leatherwoods to give 'er a s'prise, Dem long keen leatherwoods wuked mighty well, An' 'er tongue, it jes rattle lak a clapper in a bell.
On a Sadd'y mornin' she sleep sorter late;
An' de las' time I see'd her, she 'us gwine out de ■
gate. I wus feedin' at de stable, lookin' out through a
crack, An' she lef my log cabin 'fore I could git back.
On a Sund'y mornin', as I laid on my bed, I didn' have no Nigger wife to bother my head. Now whisky an' brandy jug's my biges' bes' friend, An' my long week's wuk is about at its end.
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