Come hyeah! you mos’ tiahed to def,
        Po’ little lamb. 
  Played yo’se’f clean out o’ bref,
        Po’ little lamb. 
  See dem han’s now—­sich a sight! 
  Would you evah b’lieve dey’s white? 
  Stan’ still twell I wash ’em right,
        Po’ little lamb.

  Jes’ cain’t hol’ yo’ haid up straight,
        Po’ little lamb. 
  Had n’t oughter played so late,
        Po’ little lamb. 
  Mammy do’ know whut she ’d do,
  Ef de chillun’s all lak you;
    You ‘s a caution now fu’ true,
        Po’ little lamb.

  Lay yo’ haid down in my lap,
        Po’ little lamb. 
  Y’ ought to have a right good slap,
        Po’ little lamb. 
  You been runnin’ roun’ a heap. 
  Shet dem eyes an’ don’t you peep,
  Dah now, dah now, go to sleep,
        Po’ little lamb.

THE PHOTOGRAPH

  See dis pictyah in my han’? 
    Dat’s my gal;
  Ain’t she purty? goodness lan’! 
    Huh name Sal. 
  Dat’s de very way she be—­
  Kin’ o’ tickles me to see
  Huh a-smilin’ back at me.

  She sont me dis photygraph
    Jes’ las’ week;
  An’ aldough hit made me laugh—­
    My black cheek
  Felt somethin’ a-runnin’ queer;
  Bless yo’ soul, it was a tear
  Jes’ f’om wishin’ she was here.

  Often when I ’s all alone
    Layin’ here,
  I git t’inkin’ ’bout my own
    Sallie dear;
  How she say dat I ’s huh beau,
  An’ hit tickles me to know
  Dat de gal do love me so.

  Some bright day I ‘s goin’ back,
    Fo’ de la! 
  An’ ez sho’ ’s my face is black,
    Ax huh pa
  Fu’ de blessed little miss
  Who ‘s a-smilin’ out o dis
  Pictyah, lak she wan’ed a kiss!

JEALOUS

  Hyeah come Caesar Higgins,
  Don’t he think he ’s fine? 
  Look at dem new riggin’s
  Ain’t he tryin’ to shine? 
  Got a standin’ collar
  An’ a stove-pipe hat,
  I ‘ll jes’ bet a dollar
  Some one gin him dat.

  Don’t one o’ you mention,
  Nothin’ ’bout his cloes,
  Don’t pay no attention,
  Er let on you knows
  Dat he ’s got ’em on him,
  Why, ’t ’ll mek him sick,
  Jes go on an’ sco’n him,
  My, ain’t dis a trick!

  Look hyeah, whut ‘s he doin’
  Lookin’ t’ othah way? 
  Dat ere move ’s a new one,
  Some one call him, “Say!”
  Can’t you see no pusson—­
  Puttin’ on you’ airs,
  Sakes alive, you ’s wuss’n
  Dese hyeah millionaires.

  Need n’t git so flighty,
  Case you got dat suit. 
  Dem cloes ain’t so mighty,—­
  Second hand to boot,
  I ‘s a-tryin’ to spite you! 
  Full of jealousy! 
  Look hyeah, man, I ’ll fight you,
  Don’t you fool wid me!

PARTED