Days git wa'm an' wa'mah,
  School gits mighty dull,
Seems lak dese hyeah teachahs
  Mus' feel mussiful.
Hookey's wrong, I know it
  Ain't no gent'man's trick;
But de aih's a-callin',
  "Come on to de crick."

Dah de watah's gu'glin'
  Ovah shiny stones,
Des hit's ve'y singin'
  Seems to soothe yo' bones.
Wat's de use o' waitin'
  Go on good an' quick:
Dain't no fun lak dis hyeah
  Wadin' in de crick.

W'at dat jay-b'ud sayin'?
  Bettah shet yo' haid,
Fus' t'ing dat you fin' out,
  You'll be layin' daid.
Jay-bu'ds sich a tattlah,
  Des seem lak his trick
Fu' to tell on folkses
  Wadin' in de crick.

Wilier boughs a-bendin'
  Hidin' of de sky,
Wavin' kin' o' frien'ly
  Ez de win' go by,
Elum trees a-shinin',
  Dahk an' green an' thick,
Seem to say, "I see yo'
  Wadin' in de crick."

But de trees don' chattah,
  Dey des look an' sigh
Lak hit's kin' o' peaceful
  Des a-bein' nigh,
An' yo' t'ank yo' Mastah
  Dat dey trunks is thick
W'en yo' mammy fin's you
  Wadin' in de crick.

Den yo' run behin' dem
  Lak yo' scaihed to def,
Mammy come a-flyin',
  Mos' nigh out o' bref;
But she set down gentle
  An' she drap huh stick,—
An' fus' t'ing, dey's mammy
  Wadin' in de crick.