Black Songs


OLD Miss Polecat switch down de road,
A-steppin’ and a-mincin’;
She don’t look to right, she don’t look to lef’,
She keep straight on, sartain sure of herse’f —
An’ she mighty cornvincin’.
Young Mr. Hound come a-spankin’ along,
As brash as a b’ar;
He sniff at de wrong wind, a-turnin’ de corner,
Don’t see Miss Pole till he right smack on her,
Den — he jes’ ain’t dar!
Old Miss Polecat push down de road,
A-steppin’ and a-mincin’.
She got grand manners when she feelin’ mild;
But whedder she cyalm or whedder she riled,
She mighty cornvincin’!


Don’t never cross a road what a black cat cross —
’T ain’t nothin’ but sorrow, ’t ain’t nothin’ but loss,
Brindle cat, spotted cat, dem’s all right;
Safety in a yallcr cat, blessin’ in a white;
But de black cat ructions, wid a bristle in his tail,
He fotchin’ for de Debble, and he better not fail.
De black cat travel wid his belly in de dus’;
He gwine whar he gwine, and he gwine kase he mus’.
Black cat, black cat — when he cross yo’ track,
No matter whar you gwine,
To a dippin’ or a dyin’,
No matter whar you hurryin’,
To a marryin’ or a buryin’ —
You better turn back!


De rain been a-rainin’ for a week an’ mo’;
It splarshin’ in de gutter, it sousin’ at de do’;
It mumble at de winder, it bumble on dc eaves,
It make long steppin’s in de honeyshuck leaves.
We cyan’t bug ’taters, and we cyan’t thin corn;
Dar’s gwine to be a famine, jes’ as sure as you born;
But de Lawd he sen’ it, an’ de Lawd know bes’,
So set on yo’ backbone an’ let de Lawd bless.
Mo’ rain, mo’ res’ . . .
Mo’ rain, mo’ res’.
Old Mr. Crow got de croup in his ches’,
Old Mrs. Turkey Hen a-drownin’ on her nes’;
Rain, rain, rain, an’ de rank weeds growin’ —
Dev cyan’t be no harvest whar dey ain’t, been no booin’.
But de sweet water drummin’: No use for to fret,
Set peaceful in de cabin while you got a chance to set;
Set happy in de cabin wid a song in yo’ breas’ —
De Lawd brung de rain, an’ dc Lawd know bes’.
Mo’ rain, mo’ res’ . . .
Mo’ rain, mo’ res’.