Too Precious.

You want my dolly, Baby? I really must say, No. I love it quite too much, you see, To ever let it go. For now ’tis fresh and lovely, But I’m afraid, my dear, If once I let you have it, ’Twould soon look very queer.

Dis chile? Why, bless you, honey! She sutt’nly is dat sweet You wouldn’t need no sugar, Ef she was made to eat. An’ smart! de smartes’ baby Dere is in all dis town; She got her toofies long befo’ Dat no count Hay’et Brown. An’ loves her mammy, don’ she? Law, bless de honey chile! She know ez well ez I do What makes her mammy smile. She this go tug at mammy, And try to pull her hyar, An’ try to poke out mammy’s eyes, But mammy ain’ gwine cyar. Now tell de lady what yo name, An’ den how big you is; Now kiss yo hand to lady, So she know how you’s riz. Now come with old Betheuk, She gwine to take you home, An’ may be you learn howdy De nex time dat you come.