My Sweet Brown Gal
W’EN de clouds is hangin’ heavy in de sky,
An’ de win’s 's a—taihin’ moughty vig’rous by,
I don’ go a—sighin’ all erlong de way;
I des’ wo’k a—waitin’ fu’ de close o’ day.
Case I knows w’en evenin’ draps huh shadders down,
I won’ care a smidgeon fu’ de weathah’s frown;
Let de rain go splashin’, let de thundah raih,
Dey’s a happy sheltah, an’ I’s goin’ daih.
Down in my ol’ cabin wa’m ez mammy’s toas’,
'Taters in de fiah layin’ daih to roas’;
No one daih to cross me, got no talkin’ pal
But I’s got de comp’ny o’ my sweet brown gal.
So I spen’s my evenin’ listenin’ to huh sing,
Lak a blessid angel; how huh voice do ring!
Sweetah den a bluebird flutterin’ erroun’,
W’en he sees de steamin’ o’ de new ploughed groun’.
Den I hugs huh closah, closah to my breas’.
Need n’t sing, my da’lin’, tek you’ hones’ res’.
Does I mean Malindy, Mandy, Lize er Sal?
No, I means my fiddle—dat’s my sweet brown gal!
