Down in th’ canfield’s don’ you hyeh the’ niggas sing?
An’ th’ steady swishin’ music of the’ cutting’ sickle’s swing?
O, th’ juice of th’ cane is a-flowin’ jest as sweet
As the’ voices of th’ angels all around’ th’ Jedgment Seat.
Swing high, niggas.
No time fo’ sleep an’ sunning’.
Satan might ketch you,
An’ Pay-Day is a-comin’.
Misteh Jay-Bird is a-squawkin’ in the big magnolia trees;
The honeysuckle’s heavy with th’ buzzin’ bumble-bees.
Oooo, Lawd,
Wineth is a-comin’ with its trouble an’ its sorra,
But today th’ sun is shinin’, an’ Pay-Day is temorra.
Splash that wateh —
Hyeh th’ banjos strummin’?
Git behin’ me, Satan.
Pay-Day’s a-comin’.
O we’ll come up form th’ riveh, from th’ bayou an’ th’
fiel’s
In piled up wooden wagons with creakin’, swayin’ wheels.
We’ll gather like th’ Heavenly Host in shiny bright array,
An’ I’ll by myself some earrin’s on the happy holiday.
Bright red earrin’s.
Nigga, hyeh th’ washboard drummin’.
Oooo Lawd in Hebe’n,
Pay-Day is a-comin’!
This piece originally appeared in New Strung Bow, a book of poems written by Sarah Lawrence students that was published in 1932.