THE SEASONS

W'en de leaves begin to fall,

An’ de fros’ is on de ground,

An’ de‘ simmons is a-ripenin’ on de tree;

W'en I heah de dinner call,

An’ de chillen gadder‘ round,

‘ Tis den de‘ possum is de meat fu’ me.

W'en de wintertime am pas’

An’ de spring is come at las’,

W'en de good ole summer sun begins to shine;

Oh! my thoughts den tek a turn,

An’ my heart begins to yearn

Fo’ dat watermelon growin’ on de vine.

Now, de yeah will sholy bring

‘ Round a season fu’ us all,

Ev'y one kin pick his season f'om de res’;

But de melon in de spring,

An’ de‘ possum in de fall,

Mek it hard to tell which time o’ year am bes’.