Poetry Archives

Who dat knockin’ at de do’?
Why, Ike Johnson,—yes, fu’ sho!
Come in, Ike. I ’s mighty glad
You come down. I t’ought you ’s mad
At me ’bout de othah night,
An’ was stayin’ ‘way fu’ spite.
Say, now, was you mad fu’ true
Wen I kin’ o’ laughed at you?
  Speak up, Ike, an’ ’spress yo’se’f.

‘T ain’t no use a-lookin’ sad,
An’ a-mekin’ out you ’s mad;
Ef you ’s gwine to be so glum,
Wondah why you evah come.
I don’t lak nobidy ‘roun’
Dat jes’ shet dey mouf an’ frown,—
Oh, now, man, don’t act a dunce!
Cain’t you talk? I tol’ you once,
  Speak up, Ike, an’ ’spress yo’se’f.

Wha ‘d you come hyeah fu’ to-night?
Body ‘d t’ink yo’ haid ain’t right.
I ’s done all dat I kin do,—
Dressed perticler, jes’ fu’ you;
Reckon I ‘d ‘a’ bettah wo’
My ol’ ragged calico.
Aftah all de pains I ’s took,
Cain’t you tell me how I look?
  Speak up, Ike, an’ ’spress yo’se’f.

Bless my soul! I ‘mos’ fu’got
Tellin’ you ’bout Tildy Scott.
Don’t you know, come Thu’sday night,
She gwine ma’y Lucius White?
Miss Lize say I allus wuh
Heap sight laklier ‘n huh;
An’ she ‘ll git me somep’n new,
Ef I wants to ma’y too.
  Speak up, Ike, an’ ’spress yo’se’f.

I could ma’y in a week,
Ef de man I wants ‘ud speak.
Tildy’s presents ‘ll be fine,
But dey would n’t ekal mine.
Him whut gits me fu’ a wife
‘Ll be proud, you bet yo’ life.
I ’s had offers; some ain’t quit;
But I has n’t ma’ied yit!
  Speak up, Ike, an’ ’spress yo’se’f.

Ike, I loves you,—yes, I does;
You ’s my choice, and allus was.
Laffin’ at you ain’t no harm.—
Go ‘way, dahky, whah ’s yo’ arm?
Hug me closer—dah, dat ’s right!
Was n’t you a awful sight,
Havin’ me to baig you so?
Now ax whut you want to know,—
  Speak up, Ike, an’ ’spress yo’se’f!