This is a poem, not a song, but it should appeal to those who like recitations (and music).

From Majors and Minors: Poems by Paul Laurence Dunbar (Toledo, OH: Hadley & Hadley, printers, 1895), page 131:


DEACON JONES'S GRIEVANCE.
Paul Laurence Dunbar.

I'VE been watchin' of 'em, parson, an' I'm sorry fur to say
'At my mind is not contented with the loose an' keerless way
'At the young folks treat the music, 'tain't the proper sort o' choir,—
Then I don't believe in Christuns a-singin' hymns fur hire.

But I never would 'a' murmured, an' the matter might 'a' gone
Ef it wasn't fur the antics 'at I've seen 'em kerry on;
So I thought it was my dooty fur to come to you an' ask
Ef you wouldn't sort o' gently take them singin'-folks to task.

Fust, the music they've be'n singin' will disgrace us very soon;
It's a cross between a opry an' a ol' cotillon tune.
With its dashes an' its quavers an' its hifalutin style—
Why, it sets my head to swimmin' when I'm comin' down the aisle.

Now, it might be almost decent ef it wasn't fur the way
'At they git up there an' sing it, hey dum diddle loud and gay.
Why, it shames the name o' sacred in its brazen worldliness,
An' they've even got "Ol' Hundred" in a bold, new-fangled dress.

You'll excuse me, Mr. Parson, ef I seem a little sore;
But I've sung the songs of Isr'el fur threescore years an' more,
An' it sort o' hurts my feelin's fur to see 'em put away
Fur these harum-scarum ditties 'at is capturin' the day.

There's anuther little happ'nin' 'at I'll mention while I'm here,
Jus' to show 'at my objections all is offered sound an' clear.
It was one day they was singin' an' was doin' well enough—
Singin' good as people could sing sich a awful mess o' stuff—

When the choir give a holler, an' the organ give a groan,
An' they left one weak-voiced feller a-singin' there alone!
But he stuck right to the music, tho' 'twas tryin' as could be;
An' when I tried to help him, why, the hull church scowled at me.

You say that's solo singin',—well I praise the Lord that I
Growed up when folks was willin' to sing their hymns so high.
Oh, we never had such doin's in the good, ol' Bethel days,
When the folks was all contented with the simple songs o' praise.

Now, I may have spoke too open, but 'twas too hard to keep still,
An' I hope you'll tell the singers 'at I bear 'em no ill will.
'At they all may git to glory is my wish an' my desire,
But they'll need some extry trainin' 'fore they join the heavenly choir!