Lod ham mursy Mandy, yo mis it all
When you let dat supper pass yo at de ole Toun Hall.
Sah, they had one pison meal,
Dat good ole broun possom an sweet taters, sush yo mouf!
Would upsit yo pallet an’ tickel yo heels.
An biscuit, hum, hum! don’t talk,
I et so many I could hardly walk.
When yo’d bustum open an dah ginter to steam
An dat fresh country butter gist madum a dream.
And dey had dem urly June peas dat was picked while da’s in blossom;
But wait tell I tolger bout dat gravy dey had roun dat possom.
It was gist a real medium lite broun,
Hum youm, youm! when dey rised de lid yo could smill it all ober toun.
An dat homade cake stood five layers hi,
Mursy! an dat egg-custard, well, ’twould almost make ye cry.
Den dey passed de water mellin an ice kream on de side,
An’ when you backed away from dat table yo sho was satisfied.
But you oder seen um a pitin on airs,
Ole Ginn Jackson and Tildia Blairs,
When dey’s asks tu et dey gaped like dey waned to fuse,
Sain no we thank yo, we don’t carh fo, but to dat table dey gin to oose.
Well sure yo woder almose bussed yo ribs
When de blessen was said by ole Joe Tibs,
Gist fo he started he ginner a real deep sie.
And eber body bow dey heads, but on dem biscuits he kept one eye,
Den he started, Good Lod! we turn thanks fo what bout to cieve,
But I aint so buzy wid dis prawh dat I can’t see dat sister slipen biscuits up her sleeve. Amen.