u free,--Dinah!

SALLIE

Sallie! Sallie! don't you want to marry?
Sallie! Sallie! do come an' tarry!
Sallie! Sallie! Mammy says to tell her when.
Sallie! Sallie! She's gwineter kill dat turkey hen!

Sallie! Sallie! When you goes to marry,
(Sallie! Sallie!) Marry a fahmin man(!)
(Sallie! Sallie!) Ev'ry day'll be Mond'y,
(Sallie! Sallie!) Wid a hoe-handle in y[=o]' han'!

SONG TO THE RUNAWAY SLAVE[29]

Go 'way from dat window, "My Honey, My Love!"
Go 'way from dat window! I say.
De baby's in de bed, an' his mammy's lyin' by,
But you cain't git y[=o]' lodgin' here.

Go 'way from dat window, "My Honey, My Love!"
Go 'way from dat window! I say;
Fer ole Mosser's got 'is gun, an' to Miss'ip' youse been s[=o]l';
So you cain't git y[=o]' lodgin' here.

Go 'way from dat window, "My Honey, My Love!"
Go 'way from dat window! I say.
De baby keeps a-cryin'; but you'd better un'erstan'
Dat you cain't git y[=o]' lodgin' here.

Go 'way from dat window, "My Honey, My Love!"
Go 'way from dat window! I say;
Fer de Devil's in dat man, an' you'd better un'erstan'
Dat you cain't git y[=o]' lodgin' here.

[29] The story went among Negroes that a runaway slave husband returned
every night, and knocked on the window of his wife's cabin to get food.
Other slaves having betrayed the secret that he was still in the
vicinity, he was sold in the woods to a slave trader at reduced price.
This trader was to come next day with bloodhounds to hunt him down. On
the night after the sale, when the runaway slave husband knocked, the
slave wife pinched their baby to make it cry. Then she sang the above
song (as if singing to the baby), so that he might, if possible, effect
his escape.

DOWN IN THE LONESOME GARDEN

Hain't no use to weep, hain't no use to moan;
Down in a lonesome gyardin.
You cain't git no meat widout pickin' up a bone,
Down in a lonesome gyardin.

Look at dat gal! How she puts on airs,
Down in de lonesome gyardin!
But whar did she git dem closes she w'ars,
Down in de lonesome gyardin?

It hain't gwineter rain, an' it hain't gwineter snow;
Down in my lonesome gyardin.
You hain't gwinter eat in my kitchen doo',
Nor down in my lonesome gyardin.

LITTLE SISTER, WON'T YOU MARRY ME?

Liddle sistah in de barn, jine de weddin'.
Youse de sweetest liddle couple dat I