Possum

Ef dey 's anyt'ing dat riles me

An' jes' gits me out o' hitch,

Twell I want to tek my coat off,

So 's to r'ar an' t'ar an' pitch,

Hit's to see some ign'ant white man

'Mittin' dat owdacious sin—

Wen he want to cook a possum

Tekin' off de possum's skin.

W'y dey ain't no use in talkin',

Hit jes' hu'ts me to de hea't

Fu' to see dem foolish people

Th'owin' 'way de fines' pa't.

W'y, dat skin is jes' ez tendah

An' ez juicy ez kin be;

I knows all erbout de critter—

Hide an' haih—don't talk to me!

Possum skin is jes lak shoat skin;

Jes' you swinge an' scrope it down,

Tek a good sha'p knife an' sco' it,

Den you bake it good an' brown.

Huh-uh! honey, you 's so happy

Dat yo' thoughts is 'mos' a sin

When you 's settin' dah a-chawin'

On dat possum's cracklin' skin.

White folks t'ink dey know 'bout eatin',

An' I reckon dat dey do

Sometimes git a little idee

Of a middlin' dish er two;

But dey ain't a t'ing dey knows of

Dat I reckon cain't be beat

Wen we set down at de table

To a unskun possum's meat!