  ——— Of’en w’en de race I’m runnin’, Chil’ my feet gits blistered so’ Dat I hav’ a notion fallin’ ’Pears I jus’ can’ run no mo’; Th’n I ’gin to think o’ Lizah, Wit’ a smil’ upon her face Stan’in’ at de gate er waitin’, Jus’ to see me win de race, An’ I start out wit’ new courage, Fo’ to win de race or die. Well I feel jus’ like a feather, Man, I fairly fly. Der are times w’en courage leav’ me, An’ I thro’ my burden down, Somethin’ sa’s ders no use tryin’, Seems I jus’ don’ wan’ no crown; Th’n I ’gin to think o’ Lizah, An’ I wondah wh’t she’d say, Ef she’d come along an’ fin’ me, In de gutter by de way. An’ I gather up my burden, An’ I start wit’ all my might, Fo’ my limbs at once grow stronger, An’ my load gits light. Clouds may gath’r dark ez midnight, Matters not de cos’ o’ Fate, All I wan’ to kno’ ez Lizah, Tho’ns and thistles lose dey terro’, Hill an’ mountains melt er way; Tho’ de worl’ seem dark an’ drary, At de tho’t ’twill turn to day. Fo’ w’en I think o’ Anner Lizah, All de worl’ gits clear an’ bright. An’ my limbs dey grow much stronger, An’ my load gits light. |
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