Li'l Gal
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
OH, de weathah it is balmy an' de breeze
is sighin' low.
Li'l' gal,
An' de mockin' bird is singin' in de locus'
by de do',
Li'l' gal;
Dere 's a hummin' an' a bummin' in de
lan' fom eas' to wes',
I 's a-sighin' fu' you, honey, an' I nevah
know no res'.
Fu' dey 's lots o' trouble brewin' an'
a-stewin' in my breas',
Li'l' gal.
Whut 's de mattah wid de weathah,
whut 's de mattah wid de breeze,
Li'l' gal?
Whut 's de mattah wid de locus dat 's
a-singin in de trees,
Li'l' gal?
W'y dey knows dey ladies love 'em an'
dey knows dey love 'em true,
An dey love em back, I reckon, des' lak
I 's a-lovin' you;
Dat 's de reason dey 's a-weavin' an' a-
sighin', thoo an' thoo,
Li'l' gal.
Don't you let no da'ky fool you 'cause de
clo'es he waihs is fine,
Li'l' gal.
Dey 's a hones' hea't a-beatin' unnerneaf
dese rags o' mine,
Li'l' gal.
C'ose dey ain' no use in mockin' whut de
birds an' weathah do,
But I 's so'y I cain't 'spress it w'en I
knows I loves you true,
Dat 's de reason I 's a-sighin' an'
a-singin'
now fu' you,
Li'l' gal.
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