The Poetry Corner

Advice

By Paul Laurence Dunbar

W'en you full o' worry 'Bout yo' wo'k an' sich, W'en you kind o' bothered Case you can't get rich, An' yo' neighboh p'ospah Past his jest desu'ts, An' de sneer of comerds Stuhes yo' heaht an' hu'ts, Des don' pet yo' worries, Lay 'em on de she'f, Tek a little trouble Brothah, wid yo'se'f. Ef a frien' comes mou'nin' 'Bout his awful case, You know you don' grieve him Wid a gloomy face, But you wrassle wid him, Try to tek him in; Dough hit cracks yo' features, Law, you smile lak sin, Ain't you good ez he is? Don' you pine to def; Tek a little trouble Brothah, wid yo'se'f. Ef de chillun pestahs, An' de baby's bad, Ef yo' wife gits narvous, An' you're gettin' mad, Des you grab yo' boot-strops, Hol' yo' body down, Stop a-tinkin' cuss-w'rds, Chase away de frown, Knock de haid o' worry, Twell dey ain' none lef'; Tek a little trouble, Brothah, wid yo'se'f.