James Edwin Campbell

“ The lady riding at thy side
Is but in name thy promised bride,
Ride on, young lord, ride on!
Her father wills and she obeys,
The custom of her class;
'Tis Land not Love the trothing sways—
For Land he sells his lass. ”

“ Ur ol' Hyar lib in ur house on de hill,
He hunner yurs ol' an' nebber wuz ill;
He yurs dee so long an' he eyes so beeg,
An' he laigs so spry dat he dawnce ur jeeg;
He lib so long dat he know ebbry tings
'Bout de beas'ses dat walks an' de bu'ds dat sings—
⁠Dis Ol' Doc' Hyar,
⁠Whar lib up dar
Een ur mighty fine house on ur mighty high hill.
He doctah fur all de beas'ses an' bu'ds—
He put on he specs an' he use beeg wu'ds,
He feel dee pu's' den he look mighty wise,
He pull out he watch an' he shet bofe eyes;
He grab up he hat an' grab up he cane. ”

“ Hit fill de chu'ch an' all de tow —
Why, angels' robes go rustlin' 'roun',
An' hebben on de Yurf am foun',
When ol' Sis' Judy pray.
When ol' Sis' Judy pray.
My soul go sweepin' up on wings,
An' loud de chu'ch wid "Glory!" ”