English poem
De Blackbird Fetched De Spring
by Benjamin Franklin King (1857–1894)
But he notice dat de yellerin' Was a-comin' on de leabes, An' de win was so't o' whinin', too, Jes' like a dog day grebes, An' wid nuffin' in de cherry tree, Exceptin' wintah's bref, One day in fall he 'lowed he'd go En jes' skip out himself.
Hi kain't persarsely blame 'im. Kase I'd went ef I was him; 'Low he knew de wintah wedder Would done freeze 'im to de limb, Kase he couldn't ha'dly navigate, Er couln't cluck er sing, En so he said: "Good-bye, ole man, I'se comin' back in spring."
Dis mohnin', honey, 'deed I heerd, When ebberyt'ing was calm, A song dat tetched mah po' ole heart Like oil of gladdest balm. An' who should I see settin' dar Upon de ole hay rack, But mah blackbird, shuah, mah blackbird, An' 'e said, "I'se jes' got back."
Den he opened up his warble, When de gentle winds so soft Came dancin' from de hill-tops dar, An' o'er de meddah croft. An' down hyar by mah cabin do' He sang an' flashed his wing, An' I praised de Lo'd of glory, Kase my blackbird fetched de spring.