Mistah Cotton

Mistah Cotton come toh me
In de young spring-time,
En he say, say he toh me,
"Sambo, bet yuh dime,
Dat you'll never pick dat patch!
Dat I'll fool yuh crap,
Fer de weeds'll make a catch
En de bolls'll drap!"

Den I chase him up en down,
En I take his bet;
Chop dat cotton clar toh town;
How dis niggah sweat!
En I plow him sho'ly fine,--
Wo'k him day en night,
En de fust t'ing, how he shine
Wid de rows ob white!

Mistah Cotton, doan't yuh t'ink
Yuh kin fool me now;
I'll dis pick yuh quick es wink,--
Lemme show yuh how!
Pile yuh in de wagon-bed,
Sell yuh, ting a ling!
How de silvah-dallahs spread
Dat sweet song dey sing!