Hard Times
I don't know what fe do;
I ben' me knee an' pray to Gahd,
Yet t'ings same as befo'.
De taxes knockin' at me door,
I hear de bailiff's v'ice;
Me wife is sick, can't get no cure,
But gnawin' me like mice.
De picknies hab to go to school
Widout a bite fe taste;
And I am working like a mule,
While buccra, sittin' in de cool,
Hab 'nuff nenyam fe waste.
De clodes is' tearin' off dem back
When money seems noa mek ;
A man can't eben ketch a mac,
Care how him 'train him neck.'
De peas won't pop, de corn can't grow,
Poor people face look sad;
Dat Gahd would cuss de lan' I'd know,
For black naygur too bad.
I won't gib up, I won't say die,
For alI de time is hard;
Aldough de wul' soon en', I'll try
My wutless best as ti me goes by,
An' trust on in me Gahd.