Stick To Your Race!

Umph! how some cullahd fo’ks wan’ to be white. Bekaze dey am brack dey doan’ nebah seem right. Dey’s shame ub dey cullah; dey’s shame ub dey race; Dat’s why dey wood lak to be white in de face.

Bekaze dey kain’t bleech out, O, how dey deplore, Fo’ to be cullahd to dem’s sech er bore. To think de Lawd sent dem all into dis lan’ Wif hyah dat am kinky an’ faces dat’s tan.

Fus’ to de lef an’ den nex’ to de right, Dey look to see if dey am sumfin’ in sight To make dem bleech white, gib dem cheeks ub de rose An’ sumfin’ to gib dem a high Roman noze.

Dey’s kickin’ an fussin’ an’ raisin turmoil Bekaze dey kain’t git hol’ de right kine ub oil To take way de kinky effect dey kaint bah, An’ make it jes’ lak de white folk’s auburn hyah.

Dey use mutton sooit an’ tallow, an’ lard, Oh Lward er Mussy! but don’t dey try hard! To make it look wabey an’ glossy an’ slick. Den paht in de middle dey am right to de quick. Ef dey hain’t no hope, why dey go git a wig. It mus’ be made fum white fok’s hyah, too, by jig. Umph; who; Miss Sukie? why she wooden’ dah To wah a wig made fum a coon’s nappy hyah.

Whut’s de use er kickin’ Bekaze o’ sech rot? Bekaze yo’ kain’t bleech, An’ turn white on de spot!

Ef yo’ hyah’s kinky, Yo’s brack ez de tar, Thank de good Lawd Dat yo’s jes’ lak yo’ are.

MEMORIAL DAY.

To sound of muffled drums to-day, With slow and solemn tread; The soldiers march with banners draped Where dwell heroic dead.

The blue, the gray of this fair realm Assemble o’er this land, Recount the deeds of valiant men As one vast mourning band.

The rich, the poor, the high, the low, Observe this sacred day. For all alike in days gone by Have laid some friend away. For death the mighty reaper comes To rich as well as poor. Unwelcome guest though he may be, He comes to every door.

To deck the graves of dear loved ones Beneath luxuriant bow’rs, Countless willing loving hands Pluck nature’s tender flow’rs. The tokens of a reverent love For friends of that blest vale, A love the ravages of time Can never change nor pale.

This day recalls much of the past— The nation’s bloody wars, The sacrifice of noble lives— To make dominant the stripes and stars. In philosophic narrative, In eulogy and praise, In honor of heroic dead The speaker’s voice doth raise.

And for the country’s honor fought The black man once a slave. Encouched within the history’s folds The statement, “he was brave!” Within the marching ranks to-day Are remnants of the freed Who fought and bled upon the field When ’twas the country’s need.

TRUSSY’S VISIT.

Bress mah life! why, dis hain’t Trussey? Go ’way Chile! whut dat yo’ say? Yo’ hain’t fiddlin’ Peedah’s sonny— Who’d er tho’t it, any way!

Ax me ef I knowed yo’ daddy— Knowed each uddah yeahs ergo. Me an’ him hab bof togeddah, Hoed er many ’taytah ro’.

Res’ yo’ duddin’s! take de sofa, Make yo’se’f jes’ lak yo’ home. ’Cep’ mos’ free mah hooskerpalty, Plenty time eroun’ to roam.

See, hyeah, Dina, am dem chittlins An’ dem hog feet th’ew er bile? Who yo’ think we got fo’ dinnah? Ol’ fren’ Fiddlin’ Peedah’s chile!

Well, sah, I hain’t seed yo’ daddy Since dat fight at Possum Trot. Dog mah socks, we bof togeddah, Whoop’d de debbil on de spot!

Still er libbin’ down in Guinea? Why, dat’s my ol’ rompin’ groun’. Hain’t er spot, ner nook, ner crebbice Dat I doan’ know ’bout dat town.

Ready, Dinah? Bress de Lawd! umph! Mah ol’ lady am er sight. Kin she cook? Whut? Doan’ yo’ staht me! She kin sho’ put things up right!

Walk out, Trussy; go pertaykin’ Ub de bes’ de ol’ man’s got! Kose tain’t much, but prob’ly sumfin’s Dah will kinedah tech de spot!

Go ’head, say de bressins, Trussy, Fo’ de Lawd sakes cut ’em short. Lemme pos’ yo’ fo’ yo’ staht in, Doan’ yo’ preach an’ try to e’ort—

“Make us thankful, Heab’nly Faddah, Fo’ dis hyeah pussipyus spread; Hyeah deez few mos’ feeble ’spreshyuns Dat yo’ umble sahvunt shed.

“Gibb us wid ah daily bread, sah! Chicken, an’ all sech ez dat! Th’ow in now an’ den er possum, Coon wid plenty lean an’ fat!

“Po’ dy bressins on dis family— Put mo’ chickens on dey roos’; Things git skace, dey needs er he’pin’, Len’ er ban’, gibb ’em er boos’.”

Jump in, Trussy; git to business! Ebbry fellah fo’ himse’f. Whut’s hyeah fo’ us on dis table’s Nuf to take er possum’s bref.

Ha! ha! Trussy, dem ol’ hog feet Sots dis ol’ soul all er chune! Ha! ha! Dina? look at Trussy Kock dat lef’ eye at dat coon!

Yo’ hain’t full kin to yo’ daddy Ef yo’ doesn’t lak de coon; Possum, chicken, sweepahtaytahs. An’ de sumpshus musherroon.

Tell us ’bout ol’ Tootsy Tadpole. Slipshod Beebe, Feeby Scott! Susan Rhinehole. Sukie Slowup, Husky Botts, de res’ de lot.

Does I ’membah Slimmy Twostep? Who? dat dah ol’ onry cuss? Usetah hug de stove when happy, In church raised all kine o’ fuss?

Gibb him mo’ coon dumplin’s, Dina! Sakes! he’s jes’ fell into eat. Tote him few dem frizzlin’ passnups, Lecktrifies yo’ to yo’ feet!

Whah’s ol’ Susan Peecock, Trussy? Is de debbil got her yet? Sakes o’ lie! she’s got mo’ husban’s Den yo’s fingers got, I’ll bet!

Cum on wid dem pig tails, Dina! Doan’ be primpin’ in de glass! Mussen’ make de ol’ man wait so, Yo’ look poody nuf to pass.

Bress de Lawd! whee! glory! glory! No joke, dem am sizzlin’ hot! Lissen at de res’ dem fellahs Prayin’ an’ singin’ in de pot!

Go ’way, Fido! see hyeah, Dina! Kick dat debbil out de do’! Ebbry time he sniffs dem chittlins He’s er hangin’ ’roun’ hyeah, sho’.

See hyeah, chile! yo’ hain’t th’ew eatin’, Rake mo’ dumplin’s on yo’ plate! Go dem flapp jacks, sum dat grabey, Eat ’long in de mopein’ gait.

Pass de ol’ man few dem biskits; B’lieve I’ll take sum poke chops, too! Little mo’ dat drap down coffee, Nuddah dose dat bullyun stew.

Go on in de pollah, Trussy, Ef yo’ got ernuf to eat. I’ll be th’ew in jes’ er minute, Den we’ll go an’ thrash sum wheat.