Fifty Years & Other Poems/A Plantation Bacchanal

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A Plantation Bacchanal

W'en ole Mister Sun gits tiah'd a-hangin'High up in de sky;W'en der ain't no thunder and light'nin' a-bangin',An' de crap's done all laid by;W'en yo' bones ain't achin' wid de rheumatics,Den yo' ride de mule to town,Git a great big jug o' de ole corn juice,An' w'en you drink her down—
   Jes lay away ole Trouble,   An' dry up all yo' tears;   Yo' pleasure sho' to double   An' you bound to lose yo' keers.   Jes lay away ole Sorrer   High upon de shelf;   And never mind to-morrer,   'Twill take care of itself.
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W'en ole Mister Age begins a-stealin'Thoo yo' back an' knees,W'en yo' bones an' jints lose der limber feelin',An' am stiff'nin' by degrees;Now der's jes one way to feel young and spry,W'en you heah dem banjos soun'Git a great big swig o' de ole corn juice,An' w'en you drink her down—
   Jes lay away ole Trouble,   An' dry up all yo' tears;   Yo' pleasure sho' to double   An' you bound to lose yo' keers.   Jes lay away ole Sorrer   High upon de shelf;   And never mind to-morrer,   'Twill take care of itself.
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