Dese am pretty clo’es, fo’ true,
En I’ll sell ’em quick fo’ you,
Dat I will!
Dey does look des lak you, Miss,
En I feel dat I could kiss
Ebry frill.
Dis heah flower on dis hat—
Lan’! My heart do cry fo’ dat—
It so sweet!
I would sholy lak ter go
Wid it on my head, des so,
Down de street.
“Buy it, den, yo’se’f,” you say?
Now, you know dat I cain’t pay
Fo’ dat hat!
Sellin’ clo’es ain’t made me rich,
But my head do sholy itch
To weah dat.

If dem niggers come en pay
Allers fo’ de clo’es dey say
Dey gwine git,
I would hab de change ter buy
Somethin’ when my heart do cry
So fo’ it.
Ten cents on de dollar, Miss,
Won’ buy soon a hat lak dis,
Dat am sho;
En dis nigger hab ter eat—
Hab ter buy some bread en meat,
Ez you know.
Well, good-day! Dese pretty clo’es,
Wid dey laces en dey bows,
Soon be gone;
Kaze dem gals, when dey heah tell
Dat I got yo’ clo’es ter sell,
Sho gwine run.