_Lyrics of the Hearthside_ (1899) and _Lyrics of Love and Laughter_ (1903) are two other volumes full of folk-stuff. And though the final _Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow_ (1905) is less original, being crowded with echoes of all kinds of poetry from the songs of Robert Burns to the childhood rhymes of J. W. Riley, it contains a few of Dunbar’s least-known but keenest interpretations. Dunbar died in the city of his birth, Dayton, Ohio, February 10, 1906. THE TURNING OF THE BABIES IN THE BED[27] Woman’s sho’ a cur’ous critter, an’ dey ain’t no doubtin’ dat. She’s a mess o’ funny capahs f’om huh slippahs to huh hat. Ef yo’ tries to un’erstan’ huh, an’ yo’ fails, des’ up an’ say: “D’ ain’t a bit o’ use to try to un’erstan’ a woman’s way.” I don’ mean to be complainin’, but I’s jes’ a-settin’ down Some o’ my own obserwations, w’en I cas’ my eye eroun’. Ef yo’ ax me fu’ to prove it, I ken do it mighty fine, Fu’ dey ain’t no bettah ’zample den dis ve’y wife o’ mine. In de ve’y hea’t o’ midnight, w’en I’s sleepin’ good an’ soun’, I kin hyeah a so’t o’ rustlin’ an’ somebody movin’ ’roun’. An’ I say, “Lize, whut yo’ doin’?” But she frown an’ shek huh haid, “Hesh yo’ mouf, I’s only tu’nin’ of de chillun in de bed. “Don’ yo’ know a chile gits restless, layin’ all de night one way? An’ yo’ got to kind o’ ’range him sev’al times befo’ de day? So de little necks won’t worry, an’ de little backs won’t break; Don’ yo’ t’ink ’cause chillun’s chillun dey haint got no pain an’ ache.” So she shakes ’em, an’ she twists ’em, an’ she tu’ns ’em ’roun’ erbout, ’Twell I don’ see how de chillun evah keeps f’om hollahin’ out. Den she lif’s ’em up head down’ards, so’s dey won’t git livah-grown, But dey snoozes des’ ez peaceful ez a liza’d on a stone. W’en hit’s mos’ nigh time fu’ wakin’ on de dawn o’ jedgement day, Seems lak I kin hyeah ol’ Gab’iel lay his trumpet down an’ say, “Who dat walkin’ ’roun’ so easy, down on earf ermong de dead?”— ’T will be Lizy up a-tu’nin’ of de chillun in de bed. A COQUETTE CONQUERED[28] Yes, my ha’t’s ez ha’d ez stone— Go ’way, Sam, an’ lemme ’lone. No; I ain’t gwine change my min’; Ain’t gwine ma’y you—nuffin’ de kin’. Phiny loves you true an’ deah? Go ma’y Phiny; whut I keer? Oh, you needn’t mou’n an’ cry— I don’t keer how soon you die. Got a present! Whut you got? Somef’n fu’ de pan er pot! Huh! Yo’ sass do sholy beat— Think I don’t git ’nough to eat? Whut’s dat un’neaf yo’ coat? Looks des lak a little shoat. ’Tain’t no possum? Bless de Lamb! Yes, it is, you rascal, Sam!