Bones a-gittin' achy, Back a-feelin' col', Han's a-growin' shaky, Jes' lak I was ol'. Fros' erpon de meddah Lookin' mighty white; Snowdraps lak a feddah Slippin' down at night....
It was Chrismus Eve, I mind hit fu' a mighty gloomy day-- Bofe de weathah an' de people--not a one of us was gay; Cose you 'll t'ink dat 's mighty funny 'twell I try to mek hit cleah,...
Step wid de banjo an' glide wid de fiddle, Dis ain' no time fu' to pottah an' piddle: Fu' Christmas is comin', it's right on de way, An' dey's houahs to dance 'fo' de break o' de day. ...
The snow lies deep upon the ground, And winter's brightness all around Decks bravely out the forest sere, With jewels of the brave old year. The coasting crowd upon the hill...
Tim Murphy's gon' walkin' wid Maggie O'Neill, O chone! If I was her muther, I'd frown on sich foolin', O chone! I'm sure it's unmutherlike, darin' an' wrong...
Four hundred years ago a tangled waste Lay sleeping on the west Atlantic's side; Their devious ways the Old World's millions traced Content, and loved, and labored, dared and died,...
The sky of brightest gray seems dark To one whose sky was ever white. To one who never knew a spark, Thro' all his life, of love or light, The grayest cloud seems over-bright. ...
"Good-bye," I said to my conscience-- "Good-bye for aye and aye," And I put her hands off harshly, And turned my face away; And conscience smitten sorely Returned not from that day. ...
Mammy's in de kitchen, an' de do' is shet; All de pickaninnies climb an' tug an' sweat, Gittin' to de winder, stickin' dah lak flies, Evah one ermong us des all nose an' eyes. ...
Villain shows his indiscretion, Villain's partner makes confession. Juvenile, with golden tresses, Finds her pa and dons long dresses. Scapegrace comes home money-laden, Hero comforts tearful maiden,...
Want to trade me, do you, mistah? Oh, well, now, I reckon not, W'y you could n't buy my Sukey fu' a thousan' on de spot. Dat ol' mare o' mine? Yes, huh coat ah long an' shaggy, an' she ain't no shakes to see;...
An angel, robed in spotless white, Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night. Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone. Men saw the blush and called it Dawn.
I've been watchin' of 'em, parson, An' I'm sorry fur to say 'At my mind is not contented With the loose an' keerless way 'At the young folks treat the music; 'T ain't the proper sort o' choir....
A knock is at her door, but she is weak; Strange dews have washed the paint streaks from her cheek; She does not rise, but, ah, this friend is known, And knows that he will find her all alone....