The Corn Song

by: John Wesley Holloway

Jes' beyan a clump o' pines,--
Lis'n to 'im now!--
Hyah de jolly black boy,
Singin', at his plow!
In de early mornin',
Thoo de hazy air,
Loud an' clear, sweet an' strong
Comes de music rare:

"O mah dovee, Who-ah!
Do you love me? Who-ah!
Who-ah!"
An' as 'e tu'ns de cotton row,
Hyah 'im tell 'is ol' mule so;
"Whoa! Har! Come'ere!"

Don't yo' love a co'n song?
How it stirs yo' blood!
Ever'body list'nin',
In de neighborhood!
Standin' in yo' front do'
In de misty mo'n,
Hyah de jolly black boy,
Singin' in de co'n:

"O Miss Julie, Who-ah!
Love me truly, Who-ah!
Who-ah!"
Hyah 'im scol' 'is mule so,
W'en 'e try to mek 'im go:
"Gee! Whoa! Come 'ere!"

O you jolly black boy,
Yod'lin' in de co'n,
Callin' to yo' dawlin',
In de dewy mo'n,
Love 'er, boy, forevah,
Yodel ever' day;
Only le' me lis'n,
As yo' sing away:

"O mah dawlin'! Who-ah!
Hyah me callin'! Who-ah!
Who-ah!"
Tu'n aroun' anothah row,
Holler to yo' mule so:
"Whoa! Har! Come 'ere!"

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