Me Whoppin’ Big-Tree Boy
I’m aweary weary standin’, wid me heart chock-full o’ grief,
An’ a great lump in me bosom, an’ A canna’ get relief:
Walkin’ up an’ do’n de road, I see a whoppin’ Syrian-boy,
An’ I grudge him, yes I grudge him for his heart so full o’ joy.
’Twas a hot, hot day o’ brain-work, an’ me heart was sick an’ sad,
As I staggered ’long de car-line, but de boy’s cheek made me glad:
Wid his han’s dem set akimbo in a mannish sort o’ way,
Said he “Do wha’ it you like, but A wi’ wuk no mo’ te-day.”
An’ de Syrian grew astonished as he looked upon his load,
Which de whoppin’ big-tree boy had tumbled in de middle road:
He was boun’ fe Lawrence Tavern, business called him dere to-night,
An’ he begged his ole-time carrier jes’ to help him out his plight.
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