Page:Poems of cabin and field.djvu/131

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Now, de blessed little angelsUp in heaben, we are told,Don't do nothin' all dere lifetime'Ceptin' play on ha'ps o' gold.Now I think heaben 'd be mo' homelikeEf we'd hyear some music fallF'om a real ol'-fashioned banjo,Like dat one upon de wall.

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