Lyr. Add: SIN'S A MESS

When you "air" at home at rest,
Snug and tight in ye cozy nest,
Realize folks that ye "air' blest,
"Kaiz" sin is nothing but a mess.

All de things that ye possess,
To ye Lord ye must confess,
De's things true and all the rest,
For sin is nothing but a mess.

Pa go look in de chest,
Find de Bible and confess,
To de Lord who will bless,
That sin is nothing but a mess.

Gwine down toward de bay,
Pa begins to walk and pray,
I'll be good from dis day,
For sin's a mess.

Our folks go to church to look and dress,
To gaze at sister May's new dress,
I, to you must distress,
That sin is nothing but a mess.

Flies and bugs "air" an uncounted pest,
Different all times from de rest,
Worry you home at your best,
Sin is nothing but a mess.

Go uptown and hang around,
And at home won't sit down,
Making news to tell the rest,
It is sin, that's a mess.

Jest as well do right and do ye best,
In short de Lord will prove de test,
Your old body in de grave must rest,
Sin is nothing but a mess.

Written by C. Herman Hassell, Williamston, NC and F. D. Purcell, Raeford, NC, Price 10 cents. "Rescued from the waste samples box of the Morris Printing Co., Durham, N. C. Printed probably in 1928." Newman L. White, 1928, American Negro Folk Songs, Appendix, p. 416-417 of 1965 reprint. Sounds like a descendant of an old minstrel recitation. @religion @Negro @humor