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James Weldon Johnson - A Plantation Bacchanal
Work rating: Low

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.
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