Now Niggers listen to me, a story I'll relate;
It happen'd in de vally, in de Old Carlina state;
Way down in de meadow, 'twas dare I mow'd de hay;
I always work de harder, when I think ob lubly Mae.
Oh! dearest Mea
You'r lubly as the day,
Your eyes are bright,
Dey shine at night,
When de moon am gwane away!
Old Massa gib me a Holiday an'say he'd gib me more,
I tank'd him berry kindly an' shoved my boat from shore;
So down de river I glides along wid my heart so light and free,
To de cottage ob my lubly Mae I'd long'd so much to see.
On the banks of de river whar de trees day hang so low,
De coon along thar branches play, while de mink he keeps below;
Oh! dar is de spot an Mae she looks so neat,
Her eyes dey sparkle like de stars, her lips are red as beet.
Behead de shady old oak tree, we sat for many an hour,
Happy as de Bussard bird dat flies about de flower;
But oh dear Mae I leff her she cried when boff we parted,
I bid sweet Mea a long farewell and back to Massa started.
Power, James; Lynch, Francis; and Crosby, L.V.H., "Dearest Mae" (1847). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 848.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.