Censored Poem by Raymond Garfield Dandridge

My Harvah rit me week fo' las',
Dat is, dat's w'en I got it;
He sed, he hardly had de time
'Tween shot an' shell to jot it;
An' dat he had a rail bad cole,
But it wuz gettin' bettah.
Shucks! I disremembah ha'f he rit,
So I'll jes' read his lettah.

'Deah Darlin' Mine: I think ob you
W'ile heah in —' dar it's blotted out.
But dat it twuz sumphin' rail sweet
An' lubin', dar's no doubt.
Den takin' up whar blottin' stop:
'I thanks you fo' de candy,
De sweatah an' de backah, too,
Dey sho wuz fine an' dandy.

'I'spect to see you, Deah, fo' long,
De Capin sed—' ain't dat a doun right sin,
Jes et de inderestin' part,
Dat blottin' starts ergin?
Aldough I frets, I obahlooks
Caze jes' ez lak ez not,
Dem bullits whizzin' right an' lef'
Maik enybody blot.