Sum de white fo’ks moighty mean, Larn to he’p yo’se’f. Likewise sum de brack fo’ks seem Larn to he’p yo’se’f. Ebbry race got p’culiar way, Guess it all goes in de play; Live in hopes dey’ll change sum day. Larn to he’p yo’se’f. Yo’ kin shout an’ yo’ kin sing. Larn to he’p yo’se’f. Think yo’s ’neef de mahstah’s wing. Larn to he’p yo’se’f. But yo’ll nebah git er crown Ef yo’ sot an’ fool eroun’, Dis am Gospul true an’ soun’. Larn to he’p yo’se’f. Dahky, stop dat little song— Larn to he’p yo’se’f. Gimme Jesus, take worl’ ’long, Larn to he’p yo’se’f. T ry to grip sum o’ dis lan’, Den yo’ll feel mo’ lak er man; Yo’ am boun’ to git sum san’, Ef yo’ he’p yo’se’f. COURTIN’ O’ DE PHONE. Jingahling! jingahling! When er sotin’ lone, Yo’ kin call yo’ honey— Go to courtin’ o’ de phone. Drives erway de shaddahs, Makes yo’ quit yo’ fret an’ stew, Fills yo’ soul wid sunshine, Opens up yo’ hea’t ernew. Jingahling! jingahling! Dis yo’, Liza Jane? “Yes, dis am yo’ honey,” Cums de sweet an’ sof’en ’frain. Den yo’ go to pohin’ In her ear de words o’ love: Tickles her to def, An’ makes her think she am er dove. Jingahling! jingahling! When yo’ hyeah her say: “Honey, when yo’ gone it’s Allus night an’ nebbah day,” ’Pears dat while dey’s fallin’ In yo’ ear, dat lovin’ tone, Yo’ kin see yo’ honey Standin’ dah befo’ de phone. Jingahling! jingahling! Sweetah grows de tone. Makes er niggah neerly Ram his head clah th’ew de phone. Kaze dem sugah wurds Dey sho’ly make yo’ hea’t inspah— ’Lecktrifies yo’ spirit, Sots yo’ whol’ soul all er fiah! Jingahling! jingahling! When de day is dun, You no mo’ kin see de Blazin’, dazzlin’, sinkin’ sun, How yo’ lub to ’membah ’Bout yo’ courtin’ o’ de phone, Ez yo’ muse an’ pondah In yo’ cabin all er lone! LONESUM VALLEY CHRISTMUS TREE. Bes’ ub all de Chrismus ’tainmunts Dat I axshly ebbah seed, Was de one at Lonesum Valley At de church ub Pawsun Weed. All de ol’ fo’ks an’ de chillun Dress purraded out dat night, To de graid big Chrismus ’tainmun’ Fo’ to git dey Chrismus mite. When dey’s geddahd in dat chapel, Bruddah.—? Dey was thick ez hops, When de chillun seed de candy, Smack’d dey moufs an’ lick’d dey chops. Dey was He, He, an’ er lafin’ An’ er clappin’ o’ dey han’s, An’ dey jaws jes’ kep’ er crackin’, Lak de chittlins in de pans. An’ de ol’ fo’ks tell yo’ honey, Sah I bleeb dey was de wuss. Dey’s so ankshus fo’ dey ’freshmun’s Dey’s mos’ reddy fo’ to bus’.