Feel lak shoutin’ hallelooyah,
Habben’ got an’ ache ner pain.
Los’ dat kahnsahn roomertism,
No mo’ hobblin’ wid dat cane.
Things look lak de Eden Gawden,
Hardly bleeb dis am mah se’f.
Dis am bliss in ebbry ’ticklah,
Tickles mah ol’ soul to def.
Dat snake oil sho’ did de bizzness,
Geddah wid dem herbs an’ roots.
Bress de Lawd! umph! grayshus Mahstah!
Hardly stay in mah ol’ boots!
Go ’way, chillun, let yo’ daddy
Hab de place all to hisse’f.
Kaze de ol’ man’s jollyfyin’
An’ he’s drawin’ bran’ new bref.
Dis ol’ frame am no mo’ shaky,
Doh I is mos’ eighty-eight.
Dem ol’ jints am jes’ ez soople’s
When Ise in mah youthful state.
Feel lak lay’n erside mah ’liggun,
Once mo’ dance de buck an’ wing.
Is dah ’mong yo’ doubtin’ Thomas,
Think dat I kaint do dat thing?
Oh, I ustah cut it, chillun,
When ol’ fiddlin’ Peet was ’roun’.
Had all o’ de white an’ brac’ fo’ks
Beat, dat lived er bout de town.
An’ yo bet he was er fiddlah,
Make yo’ dance yo’se’f leg bowl.
Played de sweetes’ kine o’ ditties
Dat jes’ ’joiced yo’ berry soul.
Look hyeah, Rastus! drap dat fiddle,
Doan’ yo’ sot dat thing er chune.
Ef yo’ do, in spite mah ’liggun,
Make out me er dancin’ coon.
See, de debbil’s allus skeemin’
Fo’ to make de Chris’shuns sin.
Usein’ chillun in his bizzness,
Dat’s de way he takes to win.
Now, he put it in li’l Rastus
Fo’ to git dat fiddle down.
Tho’t I kooden’ r’sist tem’tayshun
Fo’ to dance at its ol’ soun’.
Not dis time, oh, no! Brer Satan,
Kin yo’ make out me er clown.
Git me dancin, lose mah ’liggun
On de las’ day lose mah crown.
Guess I beddah git de Bible,
Read de Mahstah’s bressed Wurd.
Leeb deez hyeah mischebus raskuls,
Kaze dey’s sum de debil’s herd.
