Constab Ballads/Last Words of the Dying Recruit
Where’s you’ tender han’, mumma,
Dat would fingle up me jaw
When de fever burned so deep,
An’ A couldn’ get no sleep?
Where’s de voice me love’ to hear
Whisp’rin’ sweetest words o’ cheer?—
Voice dat taught me A B C
As me leaned ’pon mumma’s knee.
Look de ’panish-needle grass
Growin’ by de gully pass!
Is dat fe me ducky hen
Cacklin’ roun’-a rabbit pen?
Hea’ de John-t’whits in-a glee
Singin’ in de mammee tree!
Listen, comin’ up de dale
Chirpin’s o’ de nightingale!
All de chune dem die away:—
Do you see de shinin’ ray
On da’ tiny buttercup?
’Tis de sun a-comin’ up.
Now’s full time fe me to wake,
’Causen we ha’ bread fe bake;
Git up, Sam, you lazy wretch,
For de beas’ dem fe go ketch:
Ef you ’low de sun fe grow,[1]
Grass-lice wi’ sure mek you know;
S’arch up to de ole-groun’ side,
For de jack wi’ ’tan’ deh hide.
Mumma, me wan’ go a school,
Te-day we gwin’ play tom-fool:
Quick! Gi’e me my book an’ slate,
For I doana want fe late.
Sister, wha’ de doctor t’ink?
Say mumma a lower sink?
Lard! ef she gwin’ go lef’ we,
Wha’ de use o’ life fe me?
Sister, sister, a no true,
Mumma caan’ dis dead ’way so;
Sister, sister, leave me ’lone,
Me won’ believe dat she gone.
Ah! no fe her own han’ now
Restin’ on me fevered brow?
Mumma, lay me ’pon you’ breas’,
Mek me get a drop o’ res’.
Mumma!—a whe’ mumma deh?
Mumma!—mumma gone away?
Gone, oh gone is eberyt’ing,
But de funny fancies cling.
Aye, t’enk God, me mumma come!
Ma, no lef’ me, tek me home;
Tek me from de awful strife
Of dis miserable life.
- ↑ See glossary, under “Ef.”