[Warning: contains the N-word. Original presented as part of music history.]
(Well you needn’t come round)
A 1898 popular song
Words by Clarence S. Brewster
Music by A.B. Sloane
The sheet music:
Lyrics
1. Ise had hard luck, worst ever struck
Oh, Ise been up against it good an’ hard
Shot craps last night, got cleaned up right
For dey won my money by de yard
Went down to tell my cullud belle
How I was broke an’ didn’t have a red
Her chin dropped down, she gave a frown
Den dat on’ry niggar gal she said
Chorus
When you ain’t got no money
Well you needn’t come ’round
Ef you is broke Mister Nigger
I’ll throw you down
De only coon dat I can see
Is de one dat blows his dough on me
So when you bring de stuff
Mister Nigger I’se to be found
But when you aint got no money
Well you needn’t come ’round
For you ain’t the only poodle in de pound
So if my baby you wants to be
Youse got to have de dough and spend it on me
But when you aint got no money
Well you needn’t come ’round
2. Big nigger Ben, lent me a ten
I went down to de races at de track
Got a sure thing, started to sing
“Dis is where I gits my money back”
Sat down and wrote my gal a note
Says I, dis tips so easy dat its dead;
I lost my bet, hoss runnin’ yet
And de niggar wrote to me and said:
3. One night last Fall, went to a Ball
Of course mah gal went wid me on mah arm
Cut such a swell, me and mah Belle
Guess as babies we wus pretty wahm
Dey had ice cream, thought I would scream
“I think I’ll take a plate or two” says she
I says: “I’m broke.” Den up she spoke
Dis is what dat gal she said to me
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Sung here by Fred Feild: