I'M king of the road! I gather
My toll on the world's highways.
They pave the street for my royal feet,
And the man in the wagon pays.
With my sturdy heels I laugh at wheels;
I hurry at no man's will,

For the rich who ride my meat provide;
They must feed the king to his fill.

I'm king of the road! Before me
My way lies over the land,

With a wild rose train from meadow and lane

And the hail of a song-bird band.

They are slaves who team by wagon or

Go to sleep, my little pickaninny, -
Brer' Fox'll catch you if yo' don't;
Slumber on de bosom of yo' ole Mammy
Jinny,-

Mammy's gwine to swat yo' if you won't.

Sh! sh! sh!

Lu-la, lu-la lu-la lu-la lu!

Underneaf de silver Southern moon;
Rock-a-by! hush-a-by!
Mammy's little baby,
Mammy's little Alabama Coon.

Dis hyar little Alabama Coon

Specks to be a growed-up man some day; Dey's gwine to christen me byar very

soon,

My name's gwine to be "Henry Clay." When I's big, I's gwine to wed a yellow gal; Den we 'll hab pickaninnies ob our own; Den dat yellow gal shall rock 'em on her bosom,

dog and gun,

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

'Possum fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin'

time is done,

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

"A SONG THAT OLD WAS SUNG"

THE OLD SEXTON

NIGH to a grave that was newly made, Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade;

His work was done, and he paused to wait
The funeral train at the open gate.
A relic of bygone days was he,

And his locks were white as the foamy sea;

And these words came from his lips so thin: "I gather them in: I gather them in.

"I gather them in! for man and boy,
Year after year of grief and joy,
I've builded the houses that lie around,
In every nook of this burial ground;
Mother and daughter, father and son,
Come to my solitude, one by one:
But come they strangers or come they kin
I gather them in, I gather them in.