De Dog-Rose

Growin’ by de corner-stone, See de pretty flow’r-tree blows, Sendin’ from de prickly branch A lubly bunch o’ red dog-rose. An’ de bunch o’ crimson red, Boastin’ on de dark blue tree, Meks it pretty, prettier yet Jes’ as dat dog-rose can be. Young Miss Sal jes’ come from school: Freddy, fresh from groun’ an’ grub, Pick de dog-rose off de tree, Gib Miss Sal to prove his lub. Then I watch on as dem kiss Right aroun’ de corner-stone, An’ my heart grow vex’ fe see How dem foolish when alone. An’ I listen to deir talk, As dey say dey will be true; "Eber true" I hear dem pledge, An’ dat naught can part dem two. De petchary laugh an’ jig, Sittin’ on a bamboo low; Seems him guess, jes’ like mese’f How de whole t’ing gwin’ fe go. Time gwon, an’ de rose is not: I see Fred, wi’ eyes all dim, Huggin’ up de corner-stone, For his love has jilted him; Left him for anedder man Wid a pile o’ money, Dat he carried from his land O’ de Injin coney. Wonder whe’ de petchary? De rose-tree is dead an’ gone; Sal sit in de big great-house, Cooin’ to her baby son.