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Home  »  The Book of American Negro Poetry  »  ’Weh Down Souf

James Weldon Johnson, ed. (1871–1938). The Book of American Negro Poetry. 1922.

’Weh Down Souf

O, DE BIRDS ar’ sweetly singin’,

’Weh down Souf,

An’ de banjer is a-ringin’,

’Weh down Souf;

An’ my heart it is a-sighin’,

Whil’ de moments am a-flyin’,

Fur my hom’ I am a-cryin’,

’Weh down Souf.

Dar de pickaninnies ’s playin’,

’Weh down Souf,

An’ fur dem I am a-prayin’,

’Weh down Souf;

An’ when I gits sum munny,

Yo’ kin bet I’m goin’, my hunny,

Fur de lan’ dat am so sunny,

’Weh down Souf.

Whil’ de win’ up here’s a-blowin’,

’Weh down Souf

De corn is sweetly growin’,

’Weh down Souf.

Dey tells me here ub freedum,

But I ain’t a-gwine to heed um,

But I’se gwine fur to lebe um,

Fur ’weh down Souf.

I bin up here a-wuckin’,

From ’weh down Souf,

An’ I ain’t a bin a-shurkin’—

I’m frum ’weh down Souf;

But I’m gittin’ mighty werry,

An’ de days a-gittin’ drerry,

An’ I’m hongry, O, so berry,

Fur my hom’ down Souf.

O, de moon dar shines de brighter,

’Weh down Souf,

An’ I know my heart is lighter,

’Weh down Souf;

An’ de berry thought brings pledjur,

I’ll be happy dar’dout medjur,

Fur dar I hab my tredjur,

’Weh down Souf.