Pleading

If you lub me, Joanie, only tell me, dear,
Do not be so cold
When my lub is bold;
Do not mek dis burning heart o’ mine get drear,
Tek it for your own,
For ’tis yours alone.

I hav ever lub’d you from I saw^[1] your face
On dat Monday morn
‘Mongst de peas an’ corn:
Lightly did you trip along wid yout’ful grace,
Wid de kerchief red
Wound about your head.

Durin’ de revival^[2] we b’en use’ fe pray,
Spirit we b’en hab,
How we use’ fe sob!
Yet how soon did all of it from we get ‘way!^[3]
Lub kiver de whole,
We feget we “soul.”

Though I could’n’ see you when you younger b’en,
It was better so,
For we older grow,
An’ I can protect you now from udder men,
If you’ll only be
Fe me one,^[4] Joanie.

How I saw you proudly draw up to your height–
As we strolled along
Gay in laugh an’ song,
Passin’ by de peenies^[5] sheddin’ greenish light’–
Cos my lips did miss,^[6]
Stealin’ one lee^[7] kiss!

‘Member you de days down by de river-side,
I prevented you
Your washin’ to do,
Teasin’ you at times till you got vex’ an’ cried,
An’ I try de while
To coax you fe smile?

Joanie, when you were me own a^[8] true sweetheart,
I lived in de air
‘Douten^[9] t’ought of care,
Thinkin’, o me Joan, dat’ nuttin’ could we^[10] part,
Naught to mek me fear
Fe me own a dear.

When in church on Sunday days we use’ fe sit,
You dressed in light pink,
How we used fe wink!
Wha’ de parson say we cared for not a bit,
Nuttin’ could remove
Our sweet t’oughts from love.

I am thinkin’, Joanie, when de nights were lone,
An’ you were afraid
Of each darkened shade,
An’ I use’ fe guide you over river-stone,^[11]
How you trusted me
Fe care^[12] you, Joanie.

‘Member you de time when many days passed by,
An’ I didn’ come
To your hill-side home,
How you wrote those sad, sad letters to know why,
Till I comfort gave
To my Joanie brave?

In those happy days, me Joan, you loved me then,
An’ I t’ought dat you
Would be ever true;
Never dreamed you would forsake me for strange men,
Who caan’ lub you so
Much as thrown-up Joe.

Joanie, fickle Joanie, give up Squire’s son;
You wi’ soon hate him
An’ his silly whim,
An’ your heart wi’ yearn fe me when I am gone;
So, ‘fo’ ’tis too late,
Come back to your mate.

Joanie, when you’re tired of dat worthless man,
You can come back still
Of your own free will:
Nummo girl dis true,^[13] true heart will understan’;
I wi’ live so-so,^[14]
Broken-hearted Joe.

An’, Joan, in de days fe come I know you’ll grieve
For de foolishniss
Dat you now call bliss:
Dere’s no wrong you done me I would not forgive;
But you choice^[15] your way,
So, me Joan, good-day!