I ain' skeered because de win' hit staht to raih and blow, I ain't bothahed w'en he come er rattlin' at de do', Let him taih hisse'f an' shout, let him blow an' bawl, Dat's de time de branches shek an' bresh-wood 'mence to fall. W'en de sto'm er railin' an' de shettahs blowin' 'bout, Dat de time de fiah-place crack hits welcome out. Tain' my livin' business fu' to trouble ner enquiah, De Lawd'll min' de wintah an' my mammy'll min' de fiah. Ash-cake allus gits ez brown w'en February's hyeah Ez it does in bakin' any othah time o' yeah. De bacon smell ez callin'-like, de kittle rock an' sing, De same way in de wintah dat dey do it in de spring; Dey ain't no use in mopin' 'round an' lookin' mad an' glum Erbout de wintah season, fu' hit's des plumb boun' to come; An' ef it comes to runnin' t'ings I's willin' to retiah, De Lawd'll min' de wintah an' my mammy'll min' de fiah. THE FARM CHILD'S LULLABY Oh, the little bird is rocking in the cradle of the wind, And it's bye, my little wee one, bye; The harvest all is gathered and the pippins all are binned; Bye, my little wee one, bye; The little rabbit's hiding in the golden shock of corn, The thrifty squirrel's laughing bunny's idleness to scorn; You are smiling with the angels in your slumber, smile till morn; So it's bye, my little wee one, bye. There'll be plenty in the cellar, there'll be plenty on the shelf; Bye, my little wee one, bye; There'll be goodly store of sweetings for a dainty little elf; Bye, my little wee one, bye. The snow may be a-flying o'er the meadow and the hill, The ice has checked the chatter of the little laughing rill, But in your cosey cradle you are warm and happy still; So bye, my little wee one, bye. Why, the Bob White thinks the snowflake is a brother to his song; Bye, my little wee one, bye; And the chimney sings the sweeter when the wind is blowing strong; Bye, my little wee one, bye; The granary's overflowing, full is cellar, crib, and bin, The wood has paid its tribute and the ax has ceased its din; The winter may not harm you when you're sheltered safe within; So bye, my little wee one, bye. THE PLACE WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS There's a fabulous story Full of splendor and glory, That Arabian legends transcends; Of the wealth without measure, The coffers of treasure, At the place where the rainbow ends. Oh, many have sought it, And all would have bought it, With the blood we so recklessly spend; But none has uncovered, The gold, nor discovered The spot at the rainbow's end. They have sought it in battle, And e'en where the rattle Of dice with man's blasphemy blends; But howe'er persuasive, It still proves evasive, This place where the rainbow ends.