Hab Mercy !Lord!
meny da nights I’m woke’n up sweat’n
ba sump’n ride’n here on my back
when I down deah in da field here choppin
I’m can feel’n’it dere on’muh back—
e’ben ride inta town deah wit’me
when I lay’n my hoe down tuh rest
den Sunday it come
ol Rebb’n Jones he dere bustin out he collar
wit sweat runnin all down he jaws
‘cause he callin on duh Lord so hard!
den Sister Ella gits tuh hummin
n’uh talkin tuh da Lord
n ‘fo ya know’n’it
da whol congregatin dun catch dis thang
spreadin like’a fy’ah in uh ol dry field—
eben da pretty lil school teacher dere pat’n hur feets
Lord, us jesta screamin’n’uh stompin’n’uh shout’n so hard
sit da whole place thumpin like one big foot—
us dere fight’n n scratch’n us-self all ta death
tryin tuh break’a loose uh dis thang
but it joy grippin down so strong!
Lord! it jest stab’n plum down tuh duh bone—
aim’n tuh ride like dis ‘til duh kingdom come
Copyright © 1973 Asili Ya Nadhiri
After 40 years, the music of the dialect prevails.