Dese de days w'en men don't git up to de top by hooks an' crooks; Tell you now, dey's got to git der standin' on a pile o' books. W'en you sees a darkey goin' to de fiel' as soon as light, Followin' a mule across it f'om de mawnin' tel de night, Wukin' all his life fu' vittles, hoein' 'tween de cott'n rows, W'en he knocks off ole an' tiah'd, ownin' nut'n but his clo'es, You kin put it down to ignunce, aftah all what's done an' said, You kin bet dat dat same darkey ain't got nut'n in his head. Ain't you seed dem w'ite men set'n in der awfice? Don't you know Dey goes der 'bout nine each mawnin? Bless yo' soul, dey's out by fo'. Dey jes does a little writin'; does dat by some easy means; Gals jes set an' play piannah on dem printin' press muchines. Chile, dem men knows how to figgah, how to use dat little pen, An' dey knows dat blue-back spellah f'om beginnin' to de en'. Dat's de 'fect of education; dat's de t'ing what's gwine to rule; Git dem books, you lazy rascal! Git back to yo' place in school! NOBODY'S LOOKIN' BUT DE OWL AND DE MOON (_A Negro Serenade_) De river is a-glistenin' in de moonlight, De owl is set'n high up in de tree; De little stars am twinklin' wid a sof' light, De night seems only jes fu' you an' me. Thoo de trees de breezes am a-sighin', Breathin' out a sort o' lover's croon, Der's nobody lookin' or a-spyin', Nobody but de owl an' de moon. Nobody's lookin' but de owl an' de moon, An' de night is balmy; fu' de month is June; Come den, Honey, won't you? Come to meet me soon, Wile nobody's lookin' but de owl an' de moon. I feel so kinder lonely all de daytime, It seems I raly don't know what to do; I jes keep sort a-longin' fu' de night-time, 'Cause den I know dat I can be wid you. An' de thought jes sets my brain a-swayin', An' my heart a-beatin' to a tune; Come, de owl won't tell w'at we's a-sayin', An' cose you know we kin trus' de moon. YOU'S SWEET TO YO' MAMMY JES DE SAME (_Lullaby_) Shet yo' eyes, ma little pickaninny, go to sleep Mammy's watchin' by you all de w'ile; Daddy is a-wukin' down in de cott'n fiel', Wukin' fu' his little honey child. An' yo' mammy's heart is jes a-brimmin' full o' lub Fu' you f'om yo' head down to yo' feet; Oh, no mattah w'at some othah folks may t'ink o' you, To yo' mammy's heart you's mighty sweet. You's sweet to yo' mammy jes de same; Dat's why she calls you Honey fu' yo' name. Yo' face is black, dat's true, An' yo' hair is woolly, too, But, you's sweet to yo' mammy jes de same. Up der in de big house w'ere dey lib so rich an' gran' Dey's got chillen dat dey lubs, I s'pose; Chillen dat is purty, oh, but dey can't lub dem mo' Dan yo' mammy lubs you, heaben knows!