by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Now you, John Henry, 'tain't no use
To stan' up daih an' mak no 'scuse.
You need n'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 fom 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 need n'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.