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NEGRO FOLK RHYMES |
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gro picnics. I have witnessed some of them where the good-natured vender of lemonade and cakes cried out:
"Here's yo' col' ice lemonade,
It's made in de shade,
It's stirred wid a spade.
Come buy my col' ice lemonade.
It's made in de shade
An' sol' in de sun.
Ef you hain't got no money,
You cain't git none.
One glass fer a nickel,
An' two fer a dime,
Ef you hain't got de chink,
You cain't git mine.
Come right dis way,
Fer it sho' will pay
To git candy fer de ladies
An' cakes fer de babies."
"Did these venders sell?" Well, all agree that they did. The same principle applied, with much of the nonsense eliminated, will probably make of the Negro a great merchant, as caste gives way enough to allow him a common man's business chance. Of all the races of men, the Negro alone has demon-
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