Miss Lady
You Miss Lady, git down in dat baid,
'N pull de covers up roun' yo' haid!
Ole Marse Sandy Claws a-comin' bumbye,
Wid 'is rainydears a-totin' 'im clar thoo de sky!
Huccome he ain't ride in a autermobile?
'Cause he's a cayaige gemman. He laks de feel
Ob dem rainydears pullin' en tromplin' thoo de snow
Same ez we-all's ho'ses, when Ole Marse'd mek 'em go.
'N pull de covers up roun' yo' haid!
Ole Marse Sandy Claws a-comin' bumbye,
Wid 'is rainydears a-totin' 'im clar thoo de sky!
Huccome he ain't ride in a autermobile?
'Cause he's a cayaige gemman. He laks de feel
Ob dem rainydears pullin' en tromplin' thoo de snow
Same ez we-all's ho'ses, when Ole Marse'd mek 'em go.
Wid 'is leg-boots on, en 'is grebbig fambly sleigh—
How he gwine ter git acrost de water in de Bay?
(Heah dat!)
Ah ain't knowin' how. But good chillun' don' pry
Lak ole Miss Moon, up yander in de sky.
Ef dey ain't nuffin' ter see, Miss Moon know whut 'tis! . . .
But, Miss Moon's quality. Mines me ob Miss Liz.
Got de steady quality look, en sho'ly keep huh place.
Better mine yo' wo'ds, when she look you in de face!
How he gwine ter git acrost de water in de Bay?
(Heah dat!)
Ah ain't knowin' how. But good chillun' don' pry
Lak ole Miss Moon, up yander in de sky.
Ef dey ain't nuffin' ter see, Miss Moon know whut 'tis! . . .
But, Miss Moon's quality. Mines me ob Miss Liz.
Got de steady quality look, en sho'ly keep huh place.
Better mine yo' wo'ds, when she look you in de face!
Miss Moon, she gib de sign; ole Sandy Claws say "Go!"
En den you heah de tinkerin' on de roof, in de snow,—
Lak dat raid-haid pecker bird when spring mos' come,
Tappin' dat he's mighty glad he's got back home.—
Ole Sandy climb de chimbly, ter hunt for we-all—
Huccome he ain't gib hissef de worse kine ob fall?
Miss Lady, you lay down in baid, en shut up yo' eyes!
You ax me no mo' quessions, Ah'll tell you no mo' lies.
En den you heah de tinkerin' on de roof, in de snow,—
Lak dat raid-haid pecker bird when spring mos' come,
Tappin' dat he's mighty glad he's got back home.—
Ole Sandy climb de chimbly, ter hunt for we-all—
Huccome he ain't gib hissef de worse kine ob fall?
Miss Lady, you lay down in baid, en shut up yo' eyes!
You ax me no mo' quessions, Ah'll tell you no mo' lies.
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