Signs of the Times
Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah, Frost a-comin' in de night, Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin', Possum keepin' out o' sight. Tu'key struttin' in de ba'nya'd, Nary a step so proud ez his; Keep on struttin',
Mistah Tu'key, Yo' do' know whut time it is. Cidah press commence a-squeakin' Eatin' apples sto'ed away, Chillun swa'min' 'roun' lak ho'nets, Huntin' aigs ermung de hay. Mistah Tu'key keep on gobblin' At de geese a-flyin' souf, Oomph! dat bird do' know whut's comin'; Ef he did he'd shet his mouf. Pumpkin gittin' good an' yallah Mek me open up my eyes; Seems lak it's a-lookin' at me Jes' a-la'in' dah sayin' "Pies." Tu'key gobbler gwine 'roun' blowin', Gwine 'roun' gibbin' sass an' slack; Keep on talkin',
Mistah Tu'key, You ain't seed no almanac. Fa'mer walkin' th'oo de ba'nya'd Seein' how things is comin' on, Sees ef all de fowls is fatt'nin' — Good times comin' sho's you bo'n. Hyeahs dat tu'key gobbler braggin', Den his face break in a smile — Nebbah min', you sassy rascal, He's gwine nab you atter while. Choppin' suet in de kitchen, Stonin' raisins in de hall, Beef a-cookin' fu' de mince meat, Spices groun' — I smell 'em all. Look hyeah,
Tu'key, stop dat gobblin', You ain' luned de sense ob feah, You ol' fool, yo' naik's in dangah, Do' you know Thanksgibbin's hyeah?
Composition date is unknown - the above date represents the first publication date.
The lyrical form of this poem is abcbdefe.3.
Hicka':
Hickory.6.
Nary:
Not11-12.
Children swarming around like
Hunting eggs among the hay.20-21.
Just a laying there saying "Pies."Turkey gobbler going around 's you bo'n: (as) sure as you're born31.
Nebbah min':
Never mind32.
He's going (to) catch you in a while34.
Stonin' raisins:
Taking the seeds out of raisins37.
You ain't learned the sense of fear38.
Thanksgibbin's:
November 27, a national holiday
Americans.
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Other author posts
Sympathy
I know what the caged bird feels, alas When the sun is bright on the upland slopes; When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass, And the river flows like a stream of glass;
Emancipation
Fling out your banners, your honors be bringing, Raise to the ether your paeans of praise Strike every chord and let music be ringing Celebrate freely this day of all days
If
IF life were but a dream, my Love, And death the waking time; If day had not a beam, my Love, And night had not a rhyme, —A barren, barren world were
Frederick Douglass
A hush is over all the teeming lists, And there is pause, a breath-space in the strife; A spirit brave has passed beyond the And vapors that obscure the sun of life