Ob all de subjicts I kin read,
Or reason on so well,
De one I cum tonight to plead,
Is de one I likes to tell.
'Tis all about dese men folks,
Who's losin' all dey sense,
You needn't look at me and sneer,
Case it's a lack fer common sense.
Dey's done los' all dey manners, too,
En nebber rais' de hats,
Dis losin' sense, jis thrills me thru',
Dey's wo's den eny chaps.
Why, when I was a comin' up,
En I aint so ol' as yit,
De men folks didn't seem sich bluffs,
En neber had sich fits,—
As de men folks ob today,
Puttin' on sich style,
In der hiferlutin' way,
Goodness, 'taint wof while.
Case when you courts de wimmen,
Dey don't lub you fo' yo' clo's,
Dat wud be a sinnin',
En ebery body knows.
Dey lubs you fo' yo' winnin' ways,
En not fo' dressin' fine,
Lub fo' clo's dese days don't pay,
Is what's been on my min'.
You stylish dudes who's settin' roun',
Ef you wants to marry,
Take off dem stylish frocks en gowns,
Use common sense, don't tarry.
Put on some good ol' wukin' clo's,
En git yo' se'f a job,
En don't be hangin' 'roun each day,
Wid some lazy mob.
You take dis good advice,
You, Dick, Tom en Harry,
En soon you'll hab a wife,
Ef you wants to marry.