Caroling Dusk/Maumee Ruth

by Sterling Allen Brown

MAUMEE RUTH

Might as well bury her And bury her deep,Might as well put her Where she can sleep.

Might as well lay her Out in her shiny black;And for the love of God Not wish her back.

Maum Sal may miss her Maum Sal, she onlyWith no one now to scoff Sal may be lonely. . . .

Nobody else there is Who will be caringHow rocky was the road For her wayfaring;

Nobody be heeding in Cabin, or townThat she is lying here In her best gown.

Boy that she suckled How should he knowHiding in city holes Sniffing the ‘snow’?

And how should the news Pierce Harlem’s dinTo reach her baby gal, Sodden with gin?

To cut her withered heart They cannot come again,Preach her the lies about Jordan and then

Might as well drop her Deep in the groundMight as well pray for her That she sleep sound. . . .