James Weldon Johnson, ed. (1871–1938). The Book of American Negro Poetry. 1922.
De Cunjah Man
O
Him mouf ez beeg ez fryi pan,
Him yurs am small, hi eyes am raid,
Him hab no toof een him of haid,
Him hab him roots, him wu’k him trick,
Him roll him eye, him mek you sick—
De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man,
O chillen, run, de Cunjah man!
Him hide it un’ de kitchen sta’r,
Mam Jude huh pars urlong dat way,
An’ now huh hab ur snaik, de say.
Him wrop ur ioun’ huh buddy tight,
Huh eyes pop out, ur orful sight—
De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man,
O chillen, run, de Cunjah man!
An’ now huh hens woan’ lay no mo’;
De Jussey cow huh done fall sick,
Hit all done by de Cunjah trick.
Him put ur root un’ ’Lijah’s baid,
An’ now de man he sho’ am daid—
De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man,
O chillen, run, de Cunjah man!
Right een de road een white moon-light;
Him toss him arms, him whirl him ’roun’,
Him stomp him foot urpon de groun’;
De snaiks come crawlin’, one by one,
Me hyuh um hiss, me break an’ run—
De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man,
O chillen, run, de Cunjah man!