My chile? Lord, no, she ’s none o’ mine;
She ’s des one I have tried
To put in place of Anna Jane—
My little one what died.
Dat ’s long ago; no one but me
Knows even where she lies:
But in her place I ’ve always kept
A borrowed...
You ax about dat music made
On banjos long ago,
An’ wants to know why it ain’t played
By niggers any mo’.
Dem banjos b’longed to by-gone days
When times an’ chunes was rare,
When we was gay as children—’case
We did n’t have a care...
