I bin watchin’ you, big Jim,
En I s’prised, fo’ sho;
You is done fo’git mos’ all
Dat you eber know.
Dar you wus, at de cake-walk,
Makin’ eyes at Sue,
When you orter know dat gal
Ain’t gwine look at you.
Yo’ hair curl on top yo’ head
Lak sheep’s wool, fo’ sho,
En yo’ skin am des ez black
Ez de blackes’ crow.
Ebry time you pass dat gal
She stick up her nose,
En draw back, des lak she sca’ed
You gwine touch her clo’es.
Think she am too good ter speak
Ter a coal-black man
What, ez ebrybody know,
Do de bes’ he kin,
Kaze her skin ain’t black lak yourn,
En her hair ain’t wool,
She ac’ lak she am de queen—
Sick’nin’ yaller fool!
Ebry day she com’ dat hair
Lak de white folks do;
Pin it back wid fine hair-pins,
Shinin lak bran’ new;
En she go erlong de street
Holding her head high,
Lak she neber see her race
When dey pass her by.
Us dat am de niggers right—
Us don’t ac’ lak dat!
When we com’ our hair we make
Heah en dar a plait;
En we wrap ’em good wid cord
So dey sho gwine stay
Right in place a week or mo’
Frum de com’in’ day.

En we don’t pass cullud folks
Wid our head up high,
But we stop en speak wid dem
’Fo’e we pass on by.
En we as’ ’em: “How you do?
How’s de folks at home?”
En we tell ’em whar we live,
Sayin’ “You mus’ come.”
I’s bin watchin’ you, big Jim,
En I’s s’prised, fo’ sho;
Ez I sed, you is fo’got
All you eber know.
If you’s got good sense you’ll quit
Makin’ eyes at Sue,
Kaze dat stuck-up yaller gal
Ain’t gwine look at you.