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Paul Laurence Dunbar - Speakin` At De Cou`t-House
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Dey been speakin` at de cou`t-house,
    An` laws-a-massy me,
  `T was de beatness kin` o` doin`s
    Dat evah I did see.
  Of cose I had to be dah
    In de middle o` de crowd,
  An` I hallohed wid de othahs,
    Wen de speakah riz and bowed.

  I was kind o` disapp`inted
    At de smallness of de man,
  Case I `d allus pictered great folks
    On a mo` expansive plan;
  But I t`ought I could respect him
    An` tek in de wo`ds he said,
  Fu` dey sho was somp`n knowin`
    In de bald spot on his haid.

  But hit did seem so`t o` funny
    Aftah waitin` fu` a week
  Dat de people kep` on shoutin`
    So de man des could n`t speak;
  De ho`ns dey blared a little,
    Den dey let loose on de drums,--.
  Some one toll me dey was playin`
    "See de conkerin` hero comes."

  "Well," says I, "you all is white folks,
    But you `s sutny actin` queer,
  What`s de use of heroes comin`
    Ef dey cain`t talk w`en dey`s here?"
  Aftah while dey let him open,
    An` dat man he waded in,
  An` he fit de wahs all ovah
    Winnin` victeries lak sin.

  Wen he come down to de present,
    Den he made de feathahs fly.
  He des waded in on money,
    An` he played de ta`iff high.
  An` he said de colah question,
    Hit was ovah, solved, an` done,
  Dat de dahky was his brothah,
    Evah blessed mothah`s son.

  Well he settled all de trouble
    Dat`s been pesterin` de lan`,
  Den he set down mid de cheerin`
    An` de playin` of de ban`.
  I was feelin` moughty happy
    `Twell I hyeahed somebody speak,
  "Well, dat`s his side of de bus`ness,
    But you wait for Jones nex` week."
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