Itching Heels
Fu’ de peace o’ my eachin’ heels, set down;Don’ fiddle dat chune no mo’.Don’ you see how dat melody stuhs me upAn’ baigs me to tek to de flo’?You knows I ‘s a Christian, good an’ strong;I wusship f’om June to June;My pra’ahs dey ah loud an’ my hymns ah long:I baig you don’ fiddle dat chune.
I ‘s a crick in my back an’ a misery hyeahWhaih de j’ints ‘s gittin’ ol’ an’ stiff,But hit seems lak you brings me de bref o’ my youf;W’y, I ‘s suttain I noticed a w’iff.Don’ fiddle dat chune no mo’, my chile,Don’ fiddle dat chune no mo’;I ‘ll git up an’ taih up dis groun’ fu’ a mile,An’ den I ‘ll be chu’ched fu’ it, sho’.
Oh, fiddle dat chune some mo’, I say,An’ fiddle it loud an’ fas’:I’s a youngstah ergin in de mi’st o’ my sin;De p’esent ‘s gone back to de pas’.I ‘ll dance to dat chune, so des fiddle erway;I knows how de backslidah feels;So fiddle it on ‘twell de break o’ de dayFu’ de sake o’ my eachin’ heels.