Can't stan' wid you,
For pa might go come;
An' if him only hab him rum,
I don't know whatever I'll do.
I must go now, for it's gettin' night
I am afraid,
An' tis not moonlight:
Give me de last hug, an' do it tight;
Me pa gwin' go knock off me head.
No, Joe, don't come!--you will keep me late,
An' pa might be
In him sober state;
Him might get vex' an' lock up de gate,
Den what will becomin' of me?
Go wid you, Joe? -- you don't lub me den!
I shame' o' you--
Gals caan' trust you men!
An' I b'en tekin' you fe me frien';
Good-night, Joe, you've proven untrue.