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Poem	Days git wa'm an' wa'mah, School gits mighty dull, Seems lak dese hyeah teachahs Mus' feel mussiful. Hookey's wrong, I know it Ain't no gent'man's trick; But de aih's a-callin', "Come on to de crick." Dah de watah's gu'glin' Ovah shiny stones, Des hit's ve'y singin' Seems to soothe yo' bones. Wat's de use o' waitin' Go on good an' quick: Dain't no fun lak dis hyeah Wadin' in de crick. W'at dat jay-b'ud sayin'? Bettah shet yo' haid, Fus' t'ing dat you fin' out, [Pg 240]You'll be layin' daid. Jay-bu'ds sich a tattlah, Des seem lak his trick Fu' to tell on folkses Wadin' in de crick. Wilier boughs a-bendin' Hidin' of de sky, Wavin' kin' o' frien'ly Ez de win' go by, Elum trees a-shinin', Dahk an' green an' thick, Seem to say, "I see yo' Wadin' in de crick." But de trees don' chattah, Dey des look an' sigh Lak hit's kin' o' peaceful Des a-bein' nigh, An' yo' t'ank yo' Mastah Dat dey trunks is thick W'en yo' mammy fin's you Wadin' in de crick. Den yo' run behin' dem Lak yo' scaihed to def, Mammy come a-flyin', Mos' nigh out o' bref; But she set down gentle An' she drap huh stick,— An' fus' t'ing, dey's mammy Wadin' in de crick.
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