The Book of American Negro Poetry by Unknown
page 74 of 202 (36%)
page 74 of 202 (36%)
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An' my heart it is a-sighin',
Whil' de moments am a-flyin', Fur my hom' I am a-cryin', 'Weh down Souf. Dar de pickaninnies 's playin', 'Weh down Souf, An' fur dem I am a-prayin', 'Weh down Souf; An' when I gits sum munny, Yo' kin bet I'm goin', my hunny, Fur de lan' dat am so sunny, 'Weh down Souf. Whil' de win' up here's a-blowin', 'Weh down Souf De corn is sweetly growin', 'Weh down Souf. Dey tells me here ub freedum, But I ain't a-gwine to heed um, But I'se gwine fur to lebe um, Fur 'weh down Souf. I bin up here a-wuckin', From 'weh down Souf, An' I ain't a bin a-shurkin'-- I'm frum 'weh down Souf; But I'm gittin' mighty werry, An' de days a-gittin' drerry, An' I'm hongry, O, so berry, |
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