BUMMING
35
I proud ’nuff o’ me uniform
Not ever to be rummy;
Much mo’ fe lower do’n mese’f
An’ mek my min’ feel bummy.
If people like to see somet’ing,
It is a bobby quaffin’
A glass or two o’ common rum,—
Then drunk,—dey start a-laughin’.
I tell you, all my comrades dear,
Dough your pay might be little,
Don’t cringe an’ fawn ’fore richer men,
Deir pelf’s not wort’ a tittle.
My pay is small, an’ yet I live
An’ feel proud as a lord too;
Ef you’ll be men you soon will find
How much it can reward you.
De honest toil is pure as gold,
An’ he who wuks a penny
Can mek his life as much wort’ while
As he who earns a guinea.
Our trouble is dat those above
Do oftentimes oppress;
But we’ll laugh at or pity dem,
Or hate dem mo’ or less.
