I'M king of the road! I gather For the rich who ride my meat provide; I'm king of the road! Before me With a wild rose train from meadow and lane And the hail of a song-bird band. They are slaves who team by wagon or Go to sleep, my little pickaninny, - Mammy's gwine to swat yo' if you won't. Sh! sh! sh! Lu-la, lu-la lu-la lu-la lu! Underneaf de silver Southern moon; Dis hyar little Alabama Coon Specks to be a growed-up man some day; Dey's gwine to christen me byar very soon, My name's gwine to be "Henry Clay." When I's big, I's gwine to wed a yellow gal; Den we 'll hab pickaninnies ob our own; Den dat yellow gal shall rock 'em on her bosom, 1 See, also, p. 760. Daddy's in de cane-brake wid his little My heart's in that garden, that little Dutch dog and gun, Sleep, Kentucky Babe! 'Possum fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin' time is done, Sleep, Kentucky Babe! "A SONG THAT OLD WAS SUNG" THE OLD SEXTON NIGH to a grave that was newly made, Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade; His work was done, and he paused to wait And his locks were white as the foamy sea; And these words came from his lips so thin: "I gather them in: I gather them in. "I gather them in! for man and boy, |