Dere's some w'at says dat de Lawd wuz out W'en nigger folks wuz made. De debil he come roun' at dusk A-shamblin' thoo de shade. He hed a bucket full o' tar He'd toted f'om below, En' he melt it wid a red-hot star 'Til he hed it bile' des so. He went to wo'k en' made a man De spittin' twin o' paw, Den sot a 'ooman long beside Prezackly lak yer maw. He lef' 'em des outside de gate, En w'en de Lawd come home He seed 'em, peart an' biggetty, A-peerin' thoo de gloam. Sezee, "Dat debil's at 'is tricks; I'll stir up one myse'f." So He ups en' blows on bofe on 'em 'Til he chocked 'em full o' bref. "Now scott!" sezee, en' off dey scamps A-chasin' Brudder Nick, Who, w'en he seed 'em at 'is heels, Begun ter holler quick: "Oh, mercy, Lawd, dear Mistah Lawd! I is de fooly one. I mek You sech a fine supprise En' dis am w'at You done! Oh, lawsy massy! call 'em off! Don' sic 'em at mah tail!" Den hippety-fetchity on he humps En' leab a cinder trail. De Lawd He call dem niggers back, Den laff Hisse'f plum sick. "Lib on," sezee, "en' multerply, En' keep on skeerin' Nick." En' dat's de w'y ob ev'yt'ing, Fer de debil ter dis day, W'eneber he sees nigger folks, Goes lopin' t'other way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENVOI by JOHN GNEISENAU NEIHARDT THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 71. THE CHOICE (1) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE OLD FLUTE by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER THE LOVE THAT PURIFIED by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE POMEGRANATES by RUTH FOSS BREWER SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 24 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |