It ain't how many eyes you got,
'Les' needles could see an' potatoes, too;
An' "hookin' a' eye," as like as not,
Would be classed as a sin dat no lady'd do.
But it's keepin' yo' eyes turned to'des de right,
An' to'des de wrong jes' shettin' 'em tight—
Lookin' out for ways to be polite—
Dat's de way my lady'd do!
It ain't how many ears you got
Dat makes you listen an' learn an' do;
Else a hill o' corn in a garden plot
Would be 'way ahead o' me an' you;
But it's shettin' yo' ears to heartless speech,
An' listenin' whilst de teachers teach,
An' strivin' to practise mo' 'n to preach—
Dat's de way my lady'll do!
It ain't how many tongues you got,
'Les' shoes would talk an' wagons, too;
An' all de bells would gabble a lot,
An' tattle an' brag de long day th'ough;
But it's gyardin' yo' tongue f'om talk dat's wrong,
An' passin' a helpful word along,
An' maybe singin' a hopeful song—
Dat's de way my lady'll do!