'TAINT NO USE
I wuz alluz a sort o' sinner, sort o' outcas' fum my kind;
One o' these here foolish critters what is born ter dollars blind;
What never 'preciated workin' 'tel your heart wuz fit ter bus',
Your sperrit cankered, jes' becuz some other feller sed you mus'.
Never keered a dern 'bout ennytking, excep' a woman's love,
The gurgle o' the waters an' the sof' notes o' the matin' dove;
Never had no temple, nur relegion, nur belief, nur shrine,
Excep' I've alluz loved ole mother earth an' made her heartaches mine.
Never yit could understan' why folkes kills theyselves ter live;
The sense o' handin' down ter children what all knows its death ter give;
The foolishness o' 'stroying every neighbor's field an' home an' hearth
By turnin' man-hogs loose ter waller in the gardens o' the earth.
Never had no wisdom neither,—been a idler all my days,
A dreamer chasin' jack-o-lanters up imagination's ways;
An' I 'spects, when I is dyin', I'll ask Gabe ter fold his wings,
So ez I kin see the mockin' bird a dancin' whiles he sings.
I wuz alluz a sort o' sinner, sort o' outcas' fum my kind;
One o' these here foolish critters what is born ter dollars blind.
But 'taint no use ter fret nur kick, becuz, they's trouble every time
God goes an' hitches up a human ter the comet-car o' rhyme.