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Rh Lordy! hope dey ain't no ghos' Come to tell me howdy. I ain't got no use for those Fantoms damp an' cloudy.

Whass dat standin' by de fence Wid its eyes a-yearnin', Drivin' out mah common-sense Wid its glances burnin'? Don't dass skeercely go to bed Wid dem spookses roun' me. Ain't no res' fo' dis yere head When dem folks surroun' me.

Whass dat groanin' soun' I hear Off dar by de gyardin? Lordy! Lordy! Lordy dear, Grant dis sinner pardon! I won't nebber—I declar' Ef it ain't my Sammy! Sambo, what yo' doin' dar? Yo' can't skeer yo' mammy! in Harper's Weekly Oct. 29, 1910.