Cuddle down, ma honey, in yo' bed, Go to sleep an' res' yo' little head, Been a-kind o' ailin' all de day? Didn't have no sperit fu' to play? Never min'; to-morrer, w'en you wek, Daddy's gwine to ride you on his bek, 'Roun' an' roun' de cabin flo' so fas' — Der! He's closed his little eyes at las'. De little pickaninny's gone to sleep, Cuddled in his trundle bed so tiny, De little pickaninny's gone to sleep, Closed his little eyes so bright an' shiny. Hush! an' w'en you walk across de flo' Step across it very sof' an' slow. De shadders all aroun' begin to creep, De little pickaninny's gone to sleep. Mandy, w'at's de matter wid dat chile? Keeps a-sighin' ev'y little w'ile; Seems to me I heayhd him sorter groan, Lord! his little han's am col' as stone! W'at's dat far-off light dat's in his eyes? Dat's a light dey's borrow'd f'om de skies; Fol' his little han's across his breas', Let de little pickaninny res'. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DIM DOORWAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO HORACE BUMSTEAD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON GUNS AS KEYS: AND THE GREAT GATE SWINGS by AMY LOWELL NOTHING WILL CURE THE SICK LION BUT TO EAT AN APE' by MARIANNE MOORE CORTEGE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON DEXTER GORDON: COPENHAGEN/AVERY FISHER HALL by KAREN SWENSON |