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The Seasons Post by :rgunnltd Category :Poems Author :James Weldon Johnson Date :October 2011 Read :3828

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The Seasons

W'en de leaves begin to fall,
An' de fros' is on de ground,
An' de 'simmons is a-ripenin' on de tree;
W'en I heah de dinner call,
An' de chillen gadder 'round,
'Tis den de 'possum is de meat fu' me.

W'en de wintertime am pas'
An' de spring is come at las',
W'en de good ole summer sun begins to shine;
Oh! my thoughts den tek a turn,
An' my heart begins to yearn
Fo' dat watermelon growin' on de vine.

Now, de yeah will sholy bring
'Round a season fu' us all,
Ev'y one kin pick his season f'om de res';
But de melon in de spring,
An' de 'possum in de fall,
Mek it hard to tell which time o' year am bes'.

(The end)
James Weldon Johnson's poem: Seasons

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'possum Song 'possum Song

'possum Song
(A Warning) 'Simmons ripenin' in de fall, You better run, Brudder 'Possum, run! Mockin' bird commence to call, You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way! You better run, Brudder 'Possum, git out de way! Run some whar an' hide! Ole moon am sinkin' Down behin' de tree. Ole Eph am thinkin' An' chuckelin' wid glee. Ole Tige am blinkin' An'

Dat Gal O' Mine Dat Gal O' Mine

Dat Gal O' Mine
Skin as black an' jes as sof' as a velvet dress, Teeth as white as ivory--well dey is I guess. Eyes dat's jes as big an' bright as de evenin' star; An' dat hol' some sort o' light lublier by far. Hair don't hang 'way down her back; plaited up in rows; Wid de two en's dat's behin' tied wid ribben bows. Han's dat raly wuz'n made fu' hard work, I'm sho'; Got a little bit o' foot; weahs a