DELY

  Jes’ lak toddy wahms you thoo’
    Sets yo’ haid a reelin’,
  Meks you ovah good and new,
    Dat ’s de way I ‘s feelin’. 
  Seems to me hit ’s summah time,
    Dough hit ’s wintah reely,
  I ‘s a feelin’ jes’ dat prime—­
    An’ huh name is Dely.

  Dis hyeah love ’s a cu’rus thing,
    Changes ‘roun’ de season,
  Meks you sad or meks you sing,
    ’Dout no urfly reason. 
  Sometimes I go mopin’ ‘roun’,
    Den agin I ‘s leapin’;
  Sperits allus up an’ down
    Even when I ‘s sleepin’.

  Fu’ de dreams comes to me den,
    An’ dey keeps me pitchin’,
  Lak de apple dumplin’s w’en
    Bilin’ in de kitchen. 
  Some one sot to do me hahm,
    Tryin’ to ovahcome me,
  Ketchin’ Dely by de ahm
    So ’s to tek huh f’om me.

  Mon, you bettah b’lieve I fights
    (Dough hit’s on’y seemin’);
  I’s a hittin’ fu’ my rights
    Even w’en I ‘s dreamin’. 
  But I ’d let you have ’em all,
    Give ’em to you freely,
  Good an’ bad ones, great an’ small,
    So ’s you leave me Dely.

  Dely got dem meltin’ eyes,
    Big an’ black an’ tendah. 
  Dely jes’ a lady-size,
    Delikit an’ slendah. 
  Dely brown ez brown kin be
    An’ huh haih is curly;
  Oh, she look so sweet to me,—­
    Bless de precious girlie!

  Dely brown ez brown kin be,
    She ain’ no mullatter;
  She pure cullud,—­don’ you see
    Dat ‘s jes’ whut ’s de mattah? 
  Dat ’s de why I love huh so,
    D’ ain’t no mix about huh,
  Soon ’s you see huh face you know
    D’ ain’t no chanst to doubt huh.

  Folks dey go to chu’ch an’ pray
    So ‘s to git a blessin’. 
  Oomph, dey bettah come my way,
    Dey could lu’n a lesson. 
  Sabbaf day I don’ go fu’,
    Jes’ to see my pigeon;
  I jes’ sets an’ looks at huh,
    Dat’s enuff ’uligion.

BREAKING THE CHARM

  Caught Susanner whistlin’; well,
  It’s most nigh too good to tell. 
  ’Twould ‘a’ b’en too good to see
  Ef it had n’t b’en fur me,
  Comin’ up so soft an’ sly
  That she didn’ hear me nigh. 
  I was pokin’ ’round that day,
  An’ ez I come down the way,
  First her whistle strikes my ears,—­
  Then her gingham dress appears;
  So with soft step up I slips. 
  Oh, them dewy, rosy lips! 
  Ripe ez cherries, red an’ round,
  Puckered up to make the sound. 
  She was lookin’ in the spring,
  Whistlin’ to beat anything,—­
  “Kitty Dale” er “In the Sweet.” 
  I was jest so mortal beat
  That I can’t quite ricoleck
  What the toon was, but I ’speck
  ’T was some hymn er other, fur
  Hymny things is jest like her. 
  Well she went on fur awhile
  With her face all in a smile,
  An’ I never moved, but stood