W’EN I GITS HOME

  It’s moughty tiahsome layin’ ‘roun’
  Dis sorrer-laden earfly groun’,
  An’ oftentimes I thinks, thinks I,
  ’T would be a sweet t’ing des to die,
      An’ go ’long home.

  Home whaih de frien’s I loved ’ll say,
  “We’ve waited fu’ you many a day,
  Come hyeah an’ res’ yo’se’f, an’ know
  You’s done wid sorrer an’ wid woe,
      Now you’s at home.”

  W’en I gits home some blessid day,
  I ’lows to th’ow my caihs erway,
  An’ up an’ down de shinin’ street,
  Go singin’ sof’ an’ low an’ sweet,
      W’en I gits home.

  I wish de day was neah at han’,
  I’s tiahed of dis grievin’ lan’,
  I’s tiahed of de lonely yeahs,
  I want to des dry up my teahs,
      An’ go ’long home.

  Oh, Mastah, won’t you sen’ de call? 
  My frien’s is daih, my hope, my all. 
  I ‘s waitin’ whaih de road is rough,
  I want to hyeah you say, “Enough,
      Ol’ man, come home!”

“HOWDY, HONEY, HOWDY!”

  Do’ a-stan’in’ on a jar, fiah a-shinin’ thoo,
  Ol’ folks drowsin’ ‘roun’ de place, wide awake is Lou,
  W’en I tap, she answeh, an’ I see huh ’mence to grin,
  “Howdy, honey, howdy, won’t you step right in?”

  Den I step erpon de log layin’ at de do’,
  Bless de Lawd, huh mammy an’ huh pap’s done ‘menced to sno’,
  Now’s de time, ef evah, ef I’s gwine to try an’ win,
  “Howdy, honey, howdy, won’t you step right in?”

  No use playin’ on de aidge, trimblin’ on de brink,
  Wen a body love a gal, tell huh whut he t’ink;
  W’en huh hea’t is open fu’ de love you gwine to gin,
  Pull yo’se’f togethah, suh, an’ step right in.

  Sweetes’ imbitation dat a body evah hyeahed,
  Sweetah den de music of a lovesick mockin’-bird,
  Comin’ f’om de gal you loves bettah den yo’ kin,
  “Howdy, honey, howdy, won’t you step right in?”

  At de gate o’ heaven w’en de storm o’ life is pas’,
  ‘Spec’ I ‘ll be a-stan’in’, ‘twell de Mastah say at las’,
  “Hyeah he stan’ all weary, but he winned his fight wid sin. 
  Howdy, honey, howdy, won’t you step right in?”

THE UNSUNG HEROES

A song for the unsung heroes who rose in the country’s need,
When the life of the land was threatened by the slaver’s cruel greed,
For the men who came from the cornfield, who came from the plough and
the flail,
Who rallied round when they heard the sound of the mighty man of the
rail.

They laid them down in the valleys, they laid them down in the wood,
And the world looked on at the work they did, and whispered, “It is good.” 
They fought their way on the hillside, they fought their way in the glen,
And God looked down on their sinews brown, and said, “I have made them

                    men.”