De sun he look out frough de wood,
All on Friday mornin',
Den he kiver up he face wid er big gray hood,
All on Friday mornin';
De lark she riz up f'om de dew,
All on Friday mornin',
But de jaybird he got work ter do,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
De sap-sucker work wid he ax an' pick,
All on Friday mornin',
But oh! dat jaybird make me sick,
All on Friday mornin';
De mawkin'-bird don' sing so sweet,
All on Friday mornin',
An' dey hain't no shuffle in dese ole feet,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
De pattridge call, but I hain't gwine come,
All on Friday mornin',
An' de bullfrog know he kin beat he drum,
All on Friday mornin'.
Oh! de jaybird he play all de week,
Twel come Friday mornin',
Den he work lack er worfless, lazy sneak,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
He kerhootin' wid de debil es shore 's you born,
All on Friday mornin',
Fur he selled hisse'f fur er year er corn
On er Friday mornin',
He work lack he s'archin' fur er bag er gole,
All on Friday mornin',
But he totin' down wood ter de debil's hole,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
Um! dat fire gwine be mighty hot,
Come some Friday mornin',
And de debil put de sinners in one big pot,
Come some Friday mornin'.
Den he laugh w'en she full, an' den he gwine grin,
All on Friday mornin',
Fur he gwine jes drap dat blue jay in,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat jaybird?—Dar!
Dis am Friday mornin'.
Oh! hit jes kinder creep up frough de ha'r,
All on Friday mornin'.
W'en he hear dat blue jay call,
W'en he hear de dead sticks fall,
Hit make de nigger solemn, hit make 'im mighty small,
Ever' Friday mornin'.
All on Friday mornin',
Den he kiver up he face wid er big gray hood,
All on Friday mornin';
De lark she riz up f'om de dew,
All on Friday mornin',
But de jaybird he got work ter do,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
De sap-sucker work wid he ax an' pick,
All on Friday mornin',
But oh! dat jaybird make me sick,
All on Friday mornin';
De mawkin'-bird don' sing so sweet,
All on Friday mornin',
An' dey hain't no shuffle in dese ole feet,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
De pattridge call, but I hain't gwine come,
All on Friday mornin',
An' de bullfrog know he kin beat he drum,
All on Friday mornin'.
Oh! de jaybird he play all de week,
Twel come Friday mornin',
Den he work lack er worfless, lazy sneak,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
He kerhootin' wid de debil es shore 's you born,
All on Friday mornin',
Fur he selled hisse'f fur er year er corn
On er Friday mornin',
He work lack he s'archin' fur er bag er gole,
All on Friday mornin',
But he totin' down wood ter de debil's hole,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
Um! dat fire gwine be mighty hot,
Come some Friday mornin',
And de debil put de sinners in one big pot,
Come some Friday mornin'.
Den he laugh w'en she full, an' den he gwine grin,
All on Friday mornin',
Fur he gwine jes drap dat blue jay in,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat blue jay call,
Don' you hear de dead sticks fall?—
He totin' down firewood fur we all,
All on Friday mornin'.
Don' you hear dat jaybird?—Dar!
Dis am Friday mornin'.
Oh! hit jes kinder creep up frough de ha'r,
All on Friday mornin'.
W'en he hear dat blue jay call,
W'en he hear de dead sticks fall,
Hit make de nigger solemn, hit make 'im mighty small,
Ever' Friday mornin'.