Rose's red, vi'lets blue. Sugar is sweet but not lak you. De vi'lets fade, de roses fall; But you gits sweeter, all in all. As shore as de grass grows 'round de stump, You is my darlin' Sugar Lump. W'en de sun d... Read more of Roses Red at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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When I Was A Roustabout




From: MARRIED LIFE RHYME SECTION

W'en I wus a "Roustabout," wild an' young,
I co'ted my gal wid a mighty slick tongue.
I t[=o]l' her some oncommon lies dere an' den.
I t[=o]l' her dat we'd marry, but I didn' say w'en.

So on a Mond'y mornin' I tuck her fer my wife.
Of co'se I wus 'spectin' an agreeable life.
But on a Chuesd'y mornin' she chuned up her pipe,
An' she 'bused me more 'an I'd been 'bused all my life.

On a Wednesd'y evenin', as I come 'long home,
I says to myse'f dat she wus all my own;
An' on a Thursd'y night I went out to de woods,
An' I cut me two big fine tough leatherwoods.

So on a Frid'y mornin' w'en she roll me 'er eyes,
I retched fer my leatherwoods to give 'er a s'prise,
Dem long keen leatherwoods wuked mighty well,
An' 'er tongue, it jes rattle lak a clapper in a bell.

On a Sadd'y mornin' she sleep sorter late;
An' de las' time I see'd her, she 'us gwine out de gate.
I wus feedin' at de stable, lookin' out through a crack,
An' she lef' my log cabin 'fore I could git back.

On a Sund'y mornin', as I laid on my bed,
I didn' have no Nigger wife to bother my head.
Now whisky an' brandy jug's my biges' bes' friend,
An' my long week's wuk is about at its end.




Next: My First And My Second Wife

Previous: Bought Me A Wife



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