Hit's sweet ter be dere en lissen ter de hymns,
En hear dem mo'ners a shoutin'--
Dey done reach de place whar der ain't no room
Fer enny mo' weepin' en doubtin'.
Hit's good ter be dere w'en de sinners all jine
Wid de brudderin in dere singin',
En it look like Gaberl gwine ter rack up en blow
En set dem heav'm bells ter ringin'!
Oh, de Big Bethel chu'ch! de Big Bethel chu'ch,
Done put ole Satun behine am;
Ef a sinner git loose fum enny udder chu'ch
De Big Bethel chu'ch will fine um!
IX. TIME GOES BY TURNS
DAR'S a pow'ful rassle 'twix de Good en de Bad,
En de Bad's got de all--under holt;
En w'en de wuss come, she come i'on-clad,
En you hatter hol' yo' bref for de jolt.
But des todes de las' Good gits de knee-lock,
En dey draps ter de groun'--ker flop!
Good had de inturn, en he stan' like a rock,
En he bleedzd for ter be on top.
De dry wedder breaks wid a big thunder-clap,
For dey ain't no drout' w'at kin las',
But de seasons w'at whoops up de cotton crap,
Likewise dey freshens up de grass.
De rain fall so saf' in de long dark night,
Twel you hatter hol' yo' han' for a sign,
But de drizzle w'at sets de tater-slips right
Is de makin' er de May-pop vine.
In de mellerest groun' de clay root 'll ketch
En hol' ter de tongue er de plow,
En a pine-pole gate at de gyardin-patch
Never 'll keep out de ole brindle cow.
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