Liza! call dat chile
En make her wash her face
En cum on to de table
So Pap can say de grace.
You let de chillun hab der ways
And soon dey'll manage you,
Ef you don't try to check dem,
Come on, Bob en Sue!
Yo'all set up to de table,
'Twill take a ha'f a day
To get y'all to yo' meals,
Cumin in dat way.
Don't make sich noise wid dem stools!
Does you hear me, Jane?
Ef 'twarn't fer we ol' folks
You chillun wud raise Cain.
Set up straight dar, Jimbo!
We all is ready, Pap!
Stop dat whisperin' Lisha!
En pull off dat air cap.
Yo' all cud'n sho keep still
'Till Pap cud say de grace;
I don't know what's gwine to cum
Ob dis young cullud race.
Sal! git de spoon en git mo' hash—
Don't spill it on de flo';
Take up all de co'n cakes,
I t'ink Pap wants some more.
Abe, don't stuff yo' mouf so full,
You sho kin git some mo';
Be kerful wid dat buttermilk—
Don't spill it on de flo'.
En pass de cakes aroun',
Don't t'ink all'bout yo' self;
Try to l'arn some manners,
You ugly little elf.
You kids done eat enuf!
Git up from dat table
En clean dem dishes up
As fas' as you is able.
En you sweep de kitchen good,
Be quick about it, too;
'Twill be time fer anodder meal,
Befo' you chaps git thro'.