Poem by James Weldon Johnson

A Plantation Bacchanal

W'en ole Mister Sun gits tiah'd a-hangin'
High up in de sky;
W'en der ain't no thunder and light'nin' a-bangin',
An' de crap's done all laid by;
W'en yo' bones ain't achin' wid de rheumatics,
Den yo' ride de mule to town,
Git a great big jug o' de ole corn juice,
An' w'en you drink her down--

  Jes lay away ole Trouble,
  An' dry up all yo' tears;
  Yo' pleasure sho' to double
  An' you bound to lose yo' keers.
  Jes lay away ole Sorrer
  High upon de shelf;
  And never mind to-morrer,
  'Twill take care of itself.

W'en ole Mister Age begins a-stealin'
Thoo yo' back an' knees,
W'en yo' bones an' jints lose der limber feelin',
An' am stiff'nin' by degrees;
Now der's jes one way to feel young and spry,
W'en you heah dem banjos soun'
Git a great big swig o' de ole corn juice,
An' w'en you drink her down--

  Jes lay away ole Trouble,
  An' dry up all yo' tears;
  Yo' pleasure sho' to double
  An' you bound to lose yo' keers.
  Jes lay away ole Sorrer
  High upon de shelf;
  And never mind to-morrer,
  'Twill take care of itself.

1. And the Greatest of These Is War
2. Brer Rabbit, You's de Cutes' of 'Em All
3. An Explanation
4. De Little Pickaninny's Gone to Sleep
5. The Ghost of Deacon Brown

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