Den you men's de mule's ol' ha'ness, An' you men's de broken chair. Hummin' all de time you 's wo'kin' Some ol' common kind o' air. Evah now an' then you looks out, Tryin' mighty ha'd to frown, But you cain't, you 's glad hit 's rainin', An' dey 's time to tinker 'roun'. Oh, you 'ten's lak you so anxious Evah time it so't o' stops. W'en hit goes on, den you reckon Dat de wet 'll he'p de crops. But hit ain't de crops you 's aftah; You knows w'en de rain comes down Dat's hit's too wet out fu' wo'kin', An' dey 's time to tinker roun'. Oh, dey 's fun inside de co'n-crib. An' dey 's laffin' at de ba'n; An' dey 's allus some one jokin', Er some one to tell a ya'n. Dah 's a quiet in yo' cabin, Only fu' de rain's sof soun'; So you 's mighty blessed happy W'en dey 's time to tinker 'roun'! THE REAL QUESTION Folks is talkin' 'bout de money, 'bout de silvah an' de gold; All de time de season 's changin' an' de days is gittin' cold. An' dey 's wond'rin' 'bout de metals, whethah we'll have one er two. While de price o' coal is risin' an' dey 's two months' rent dat 's due. Some folks says dat gold 's de only money dat is wuff de name, Den de othahs rise an' tell 'em dat dey ought to be ashame, An' dat silvah is de only thing to save us f'om de powah Of de gold-bug ragin' 'roun' an' seekin' who he may devowah. Well, you folks kin keep on shoutin' wif yo' gold er silvah cry, But I tell you people hams is sceerce an' fowls is roostin' high. An' hit ain't de so't o' money dat is pesterin' my min', But de question I want answehed 's how to get at any kin'! JILTED Lucy done gone back on me, Dat's de way wif life. Evaht'ing was movin' free, T'ought I had my wife. Den some dahky comes along, Sings my gal a little song, Since den, evaht'ing's gone wrong, Evah day dey 's strife. Did n't answeh me to-day, Wen I called huh name, Would you t'ink she 'd ac' dat way Wen I ain't to blame? Dat 's de way dese women do, Wen dey fin's a fellow true, Den dey 'buse him thoo an' thoo; Well, hit 's all de same. Somep'n's wrong erbout my lung, An' I 's glad hit 's so. Doctah says 'at I 'll die young, Well, I wants to go! Whut 's de use o' livin' hyeah, Wen de gal you loves so deah, Goes back on you clean an' cleah-- I sh'd like to know? THE NEWS Whut dat you whisperin' keepin' f'om me? Don't shut me out 'cause I 's ol' an' can't see. Somep'n's gone wrong dat 's a-causin' you dread,-- Don't be afeared to tell--Whut! mastah dead? Somebody brung de news early to-day,-- One of de sojers he led, do you say? Did n't he foller whah ol' mastah lead? How kin he live w'en his leadah is dead? Let me lay down awhile, dah by his bed; I wants to t'ink,--hit ain't cleah in my head:-- Killed while a-leadin' his men into fight,-- Dat 's whut you said, ain't it, did I hyeah right?