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Paul Laurence Dunbar - The Deserted Plantation
Work rating: Low

OH, de grubbin`-hoe`s a-rustin` in de co`nah,
An` de plow`s a-tumblin` down in de fiel`,
While de whippo`will`s a-wailin` lak a mou`nah
When his stubbo`n hea`t is tryin` ha`d to yiel`.
In de furrers whah de co`n was allus wavin`,
Now de weeds is growin` green an` rank an` tall;
An` de swallers roun` de whole place is a-bravin`
Lak dey thought deir folks had allus owned it all.
An` de big house stan`s all quiet lak an` solemn,
Not a blessed soul in pa`lor, po`ch, er lawn;
Not a guest, ner not a ca`iage lef` to haul `em,
Fu` de ones dat tu`ned de latch-string out air gone.
An` de banjo`s voice is silent in de qua`ters,
D` ain`t a hymn ner co`n-song ringin` in de air;
But de murmur of a branch`s passin` waters
Is de only soun` dat breks de stillness dere.
Whah`s de da`kies, dem dat used to be a-dancin`
Evry night befo` de ole cabin do`?
Whah`s de chillun, dem dat used to be a-prancin`
Er a-rollin` in de san` er on de flo`?
Whah`s ole Uncle Mordecai an` Uncle Aaron?
Whah`s Aunt Doshy, Sam, an` Kit, an` all de res`?
Whah`s ole Tom de da`ky fiddlah, how`s he farin`?
Whah`s de gals dat used to sing an` dance de bes`?
Gone! not one o` dem is lef` to tell de story;
Dey have lef de deah ole place to fall away.
Couldn`t one o` dem dat seed it in its glory
Stay to watch it in de hour of decay?
Dey have lef` de ole plantation to de swallers,
But it hol`s in me a lover till de las`;
Fu` I fin` hyeah in de memory dat follers
All dat loved me an` dat I loved in de pas`.
So I`ll stay an` watch de deah ole place an` tend it
Ez I used to in de happy days gone by.
`Twell de othah Mastah thinks it`s time to end it,
An` calls me to my qua`ters in de sky.
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