NOW all you picaninnies dar, come stan' up in er row— Say whar is Sukey's Bill en Bob, en Sally Ann's black Joe? Dey is slappin' sides en runnin'—now what fur is yer late? Go back, erfore I knock yer down, en shet de gyardin' gate. 'Don't let me see yer wink er blink, don't nair one bat his eye; I'll be back in er jiffy wid yer vittles by en by." Dey keep er lookin' stiddy et de long en narrer trough, Not er nigger wunk or showed his teef, er dared to sneeze er cough. Den Granny from de kitchen brung pot-liquor in er pot, En po'ed it in de empty trough,—'twas jes' er bilin' hot! Den she tuck de fat corn dodgers en crumbled uv 'em up, En 'lowed de little picanins could come up dar en sup. Den dey all cut de pigeon wing, en squatted on de groun', While granny tuck her battlin' stick en stirred de liquor roun'; She gib de sign fur startin' when she counted, "One two, free." En er gang uv little hongry nigs wuz happy ez could be. Dey'd ben' der haids en swill it, en you'd hear one raise er shout, When his black han's foun' er dodger, en he'd proudly pull it out, De presen' time don' tech de happy days er long er go, When I wuz onc't er little nig, en stood up in dat row. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DAY DREAM by EMILY JANE BRONTE AN INVITE TO ETERNITY by JOHN CLARE LIFE'S MIRROR by MARY AINGE DE VERE THE PHILOSOPHER by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY LUCASIA, ROSANIA, AND ORINDA PARTING AT A FOUNTAIN by KATHERINE PHILIPS LINES TO THE MEMORY OF ANNIE WHO DIED AT MILAN, JUNE 6, 1860 by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE |