Angels is a mindin’ you, my baby
Poetry by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Angels is a-mindin’ you, my baby,
Keepin’ off de Bad Man in de night.
Whut de use o’ bein’ skeered o’ nuffin’?
You don’ fink de da’kness gwine to bite?
Whut de crackin’ soun’ you hyeah erroun’ you? –
Lawsy, chile, you tickles me to def! –
Dat ‘s de man what brings de fro’ a-paintin’
Picters on de winder wid his bref.

Mammy ain’ afeard, you hyeah huh laffin’?
Go’ way, Mistah Fros’, you can’t come in;
Baby ain’ erceivin’ folks dis evenin’,
Reckon dat you ‘ll have to call ag’in.
Curl yo’ little toes up so, my possum –
Umph, but you ‘s a cunnin’ one fu’ true! –
Go to sleep, de angels is a-watchin’,
An’ yo’ mammy ‘s mindin’ of you, too.