Old Uncle Ned

S. Foster

Dere was an old nigga dey calld him Uncle Ned,

He's dead long ago, long ago.

He had no wool on de top ob de head

De place wha de wool ought to grow.

Den lay down de shubble and de hoe - o - o

And hang up de fiddle and de bow,

No more hard work for poor old Ned,

He's gone wha de good niggas go.

His fingers were long like de cane in de brake,

He had no eyes for to see;

He had no teeffe to eat de oae

cake

So he had to luf dat oae cake be.

Den lay down etc.

On a cold frosty morning poor Uncle Ned died,

Masters tears down his cheeks ran like rain

Case he knew when poor Ned was under de ground

He'd neber see his like again.

Den lay down etc.