Possum
Ef dey ‘s anyt’ing dat riles meAn’ 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 possumTekin’ off de possum’s skin.
W’y dey ain’t no use in talkin’,Hit jes’ hu’ts me to de hea’tFu’ to see dem foolish peopleTh’owin’ ‘way de fines’ pa’t.W’y, dat skin is jes’ ez tendahAn’ 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 happyDat yo’ thoughts is ‘mos’ a sinWhen 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 doSometimes git a little ideeOf a middlin’ dish er two;But dey ain’t a t’ing dey knows ofDat I reckon cain’t be beatWen we set down at de tableTo a unskun possum’s meat!