Inspiration Poem by James Ephraim McGirt

Of'en w'en de race I'm runnin',
Chil' my feet gits blistered so'
Dat I hav' a notion fallin'
'Pears I jus' can' run no mo';
Th'n I 'gin to think o' Lizah,
Wit' a smil' upon her face
Stan'in' at de gate er waitin',
Jus' to see me win de race,
An' I start out wit' new courage,
Fo' to win de race or die.
Well I feel jus' like a feather,
Man, I fairly fly.

Der are times w'en courage leav' me,
An' I thro' my burden down,
Somethin' sa's ders no use tryin',
Seems I jus' don' wan' no crown;
Th'n I 'gin to think o' Lizah,
An' I wondah wh't she'd say,
Ef she'd come along an' fin' me,
In de gutter by de way.
An' I gather up my burden,
An' I start wit' all my might,
Fo' my limbs at once grow stronger,
An' my load gits light.

Clouds may gath'r dark ez midnight,
Matters not de cos' o' Fate,
All I wan' to kno' ez Lizah,
Waitin' fo' me at de gate;
Tho'ns and thistles lose dey terro',
Hill an' mountains melt er way;
Tho' de worl' seem dark an' drary,
At de tho't 'twill turn to day.
Fo' w'en I t'hink o' Anner Lizah,
All de worl' gits clear an' bright.
An' my limbs dey grow much stronger,
An' my load gits light.