Little Jim
'Twill kill me dead, dis bad sore toe;
All day all night, 'tis de same,
Mek me a bawl out Massa name.
O Lard o' me, a 'fraid to tu'n,
De way de dreadful bluestone bu'n!
A feel it movin' t'rough me j'ints,
Like million load o' needle-p'ints.
An' oh! me schoolmates dem did laugh
De day I nearly knock' it off;
Me laugh meself fe sake o' shame,
An' didn' know I'd go so lame.
I didna' then t'ink what I'd got--
Good Lard, mumma de bluestone hot!
I tell you, a wi' lose me head;
You satisfy to kill me dead?
An' oh! it is a double pain,
For I caan' go to school again,
To gellop over fyahn an ditch,
An' crew de j'int o' teacher switch.
No mo' roas' corn fe little Jim,
Dem say dat it no good fe him:
Me hide me face, for me caan' bear
To see dem passin' wid de pear.
But me a don't gwin' to fret,
De half a toe wi' better get:
I'll go to school once more, go bad;
Ay it ease me a bit, t'ank God!