Poetry Index

Charity

Now you, John Henry, 'tain't no use
To stan' up daih an' mak no 'scuse.
You needn't tink you foolin' me,
I sutny has got eyes to see!
Oh I's yo' sistah, yes, dat's true;
But den what good's dat gwine to do?
Dey ain't no use in tellin' lies,
You look right sheepish f'om yo' eyes!

Let's see yo' han's, uh huh, I knowed
You washed 'em, but de traces showed.
Let's see yo' mouf; hit looks lak ink--
Yo' sistah cain't tell 'serves, you tink.
Oh my, but yo's a naughty chile,
I has to look at you one while;
You needn't twis' in all dem curves,
To tink you'd stole yo' ma's pusserves.

Ef I tol' ma I guess you'd git
The fines' whuppin' evah yit;
But guess I'll keep it to myse'f
Erbout dat jah erpon de she'f;
Case ma's des awful w'en she stahts,
An' my, oh, how a whuppin' smahts!
So you clomb up? Oh, she'd be madder!
Say, tell me whaih you put de ladder.

This poem appears in the following book(s):

Li'L' Gal