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Beauty

She's ole en she's po'ly, she's little en she's lame,
Dey's on'y me remembers dat Beauty was huh name;
But beauty, miss, it sho'ly was,
Lak none Ah's seen since,—
When she come up to Baltimo' to dance wid de Prince.

She got a frock o' satin, wid flounces to de wais',
En one white flower in huh hayar, down 'side huh face;
Huh bokay in lace paper,—
Tuberose'n minnynette,
En huh lace hankchef on a chain,—no, miss, Ah ain't forget,
'Cause Ah put de satin slippers on huh slim, lil feet,
En huh eyes was dark en lovely, en huh face so sof' en sweet.

Ah lean above de bannisters to see huh floatin" down,
En watch huh mek huh cut'sy wid de cream o' de town,
En dey was two a-waitin'
But she smile on on'y one;—
De udder he went far away befo' dat night was done,—
'Cause she dance wid dat Blue Ribbon dat was goin' ter be a king;—
Ain't we come up f'om Eastern Sho' fo' des' dat bery thing?

De lights was all in crystal drops (we polish 'em oursefs,
'N Jerry serbe de tarrypin; we didn't need no chefs,)
Dat was a night! . . . De ladies gran'
In dey satin en dey lace,—
En she wid des' de one white flower, down 'side huh face. . . .

Dey calls dis dancin', do dey? Well, think o' dat, now!
En dey don't swing no partners, ner cut'sy none, ner bow?
No, miss! Ah's seen real dancin',
En none lak it since,—
When Miss Beauty come to Baltimo' to dance wid de Prince!

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