Little brown baby wif spa’klin’ eyes,
    Come to yo’ pappy an’ set on his knee. 
  What you been doin’, suh—­makin’ san’ pies? 
    Look at dat bib—­you’s ez du’ty ez me. 
  Look at dat mouf—­dat’s merlasses, I bet;
    Come hyeah, Maria, an’ wipe off his han’s. 
  Bees gwine to ketch you an’ eat you up yit,
    Bein’ so sticky an sweet—­goodness lan’s!

  Little brown baby wif spa’klin’ eyes,
    Who’s pappy’s darlin’ an’ who ’s pappy’s chile? 
  Who is it all de day nevah once tries
    Fu’ to be cross, er once loses dat smile? 
  Whah did you git dem teef?  My, you ’s a scamp! 
    Whah did dat dimple come f’om in yo’ chin? 
  Pappy do’ know you—­I b’lieves you ’s a tramp;
    Mammy, dis hyeah’s some ol’ straggler got in!

  Let’s th’ow him outen de do’ in de san’,
    We do’ want stragglers a-layin’ ‘roun’ hyeah;
  Let’s gin him ’way to de big buggah-man;
    I know he’s hidin’ erroun’ hyeah right neah. 
  Buggah-man, buggah-man, come in de do’,
    Hyeah ‘s a bad boy you kin have fu’ to eat. 
  Mammy an’ pappy do’ want him no mo’,
    Swaller him down f’om his haid to his feet!

  Dah, now, I t’ought dat you ’d hug me up close. 
    Go back, ol’ buggah, you sha’n’t have dis boy. 
  He ain’t no tramp, ner no straggler, of co’se;
    He’s pappy’s pa’dner an’ play-mate an’ joy. 
  Come to you’ pallet now—­go to yo’ res;
    Wisht you could allus know ease an’ cleah skies;
  Wisht you could stay jes’ a chile on my breas’—­
    Little brown baby wif spa’klin’ eyes!

TIME TO TINKER ‘ROUN’!

  Summah ‘s nice, wif sun a-shinin’,
    Spring is good wif greens and grass,
  An’ dey ’s some t’ings nice ’bout wintah,
    Dough hit brings de freezin’ blas;
  But de time dat is de fines’,
    Whethah fiel’s is green er brown,
  Is w’en de rain ‘s a-po’in’
    An’ dey ’s time to tinker ’roun.

  Den you men’s de mule’s ol’ ha’ness,
    An’ you men’s de broken chair. 
  Hummin’ all de time you ‘s wo’kin’
    Some ol’ common kind o’ air. 
  Evah now an’ then you looks out,
    Tryin’ mighty ha’d to frown,
  But you cain’t, you ’s glad hit ‘s rainin’,
    An’ dey ’s time to tinker ‘roun’.

  Oh, you ’ten’s lak you so anxious
    Evah time it so’t o’ stops. 
  W’en hit goes on, den you reckon
    Dat de wet ’ll he’p de crops. 
  But hit ain’t de crops you ’s aftah;
    You knows w’en de rain comes down
  Dat’s hit’s too wet out fu’ wo’kin’,
    An’ dey ‘s time to tinker roun’.

  Oh, dey ’s fun inside de co’n-crib. 
    An’ dey ‘s laffin’ at de ba’n;
  An’ dey ‘s allus some one jokin’,
    Er some one to tell a ya’n. 
  Dah ‘s a quiet in yo’ cabin,
    Only fu’ de rain’s sof soun’;
  So you ’s mighty blessed happy
    W’en dey ’s time to tinker ‘roun’!