Zekyl'S Infidelity

Mistis, I r'al'y wish you 'd hole A little conversation Wid my old Zekyl 'bout his soul. Dat nigger's sitiwation Is mons'us serious, 'deed 'n' 't is, 'Skusin' he change dat co'se o' his.

Dat evil sinner 's sot he face Ginst ev'y wud I know; Br'er Gabrul say, he 's fell from grace, An' Hell is got him sho'!

He don' believe in sperits, 'Skusin' 't is out a jug! Say 'tain' got no mo' merits Den a ole half-cured lug; 'N' dat white cat I see right late, One evelin' nigh de grave-yard gate, Warn't nuttin' sep some ole cat whar Wuz sot on suppin' off old hyah.

He 'oont allow a rooster By crowin' in folks' do', Kin bring death dyah; and useter Say, he wish mine would crow. An' he even say, a hin mout try, Sep woman-folks would git so spry, An' want to stick deeselves up den, An' try to crow over de men.

'E say 't ain' no good in preachin'; Dat niggers is sich fools-- Don' know no mo' 'bout teachin' 'N white-folks does 'bout mules; An' when br'er Gabrul's hollered tell You mos' kin see right into Hell, An' rambled Scriptures fit to bus', Dat hard-mouf nigger 's wus an' wus.

'E say quality (dis is mainer 'N all Ise told you yit)-- Says 'tain' no better 'n 'arf-strainer; An' dat his master 'll git Good place in Heaven--po'-white-folks, mark!-- As y' all whar come right out de ark; An' dat--now jes' heah dis!--dat he, A po'-white-folks' nigger 's good as me!

He 's gwine straight to de deble! An' sarve him jes' right, too! He 's a outdacious rebel, Arter all Ise done do!-- Ise sweat an' arguified an' blowed Over dat black nigger mo' 'N would 'a' teck a c'nal-boat load Over to Canyan sho'!

Ise tried refection--'t warn' no whar! Ise wrastled wid de Lord in pra'r; Ise quoiled tell I wuz mos daid; Ise th'owed de spider at his haid-- But he ole haid 't wuz so thick th'oo Hit bus' my skillit spang in two.

You kin dye black hyah an' meek it light; You kin tu'n de Ethiope's spots to white; You mout grow two or three cubics bigger-- But you carn't onchange a po'-white-folks' nigger.

When you 's dwellin' on golden harps an' chunes, A po-white-foiks' nigger's thinkin' bout coons; An' when you 's snifflin' de heaven'y blossoms, A po'-white-folks' nigger 's studyin' 'bout possums.