The Poetry Corner


By Paul Laurence Dunbar

Ef dey 's anyt'ing dat riles me An' jes' gits me out o' hitch, Twell I want to tek my coat off, So 's to r'ar an' t'ar an' pitch, Hit's to see some ign'ant white man 'Mittin' dat owdacious sin-- Wen he want to cook a possum Tekin' off de possum's skin. W'y dey ain't no use in talkin', Hit jes' hu'ts me to de hea't Fu' to see dem foolish people Th'owin' 'way de fines' pa't. W'y, dat skin is jes' ez tendah An' ez juicy ez kin be; I knows all erbout de critter-- Hide an' haih--don't talk to me! Possum skin is jes lak shoat skin; Jes' you swinge an' scrope it down, Tek a good sha'p knife an' sco' it, Den you bake it good an' brown. Huh-uh! honey, you 's so happy Dat yo' thoughts is 'mos' a sin When you 's settin' dah a-chawin' On dat possum's cracklin' skin. White folks t'ink dey know 'bout eatin', An' I reckon dat dey do Sometimes git a little idee Of a middlin' dish er two; But dey ain't a t'ing dey knows of Dat I reckon cain't be beat Wen we set down at de table To a unskun possum's meat!