My Jubba waiting dere fe me;
Me, knowin’, went out on de spree,
An’ she, she wait deh till midnight:
An’ when at last I did go home
I found out dat she had just come,
An’ now she tu’n her back away,
An’ won’t listen a wud I say.

   Forgive me, Jubba, Jubba dear,
   As you are standing, standing there,
   An’ I will no more mek you grieve,
   My Jubba, ef you’ll but forgive.

I’ll go to no more dancing booth,
I’ll play no more wid flirty Ruth,
I didn’ mean a t’ing, Jubba,
I didn’ know you’d bex fe da’;
I only took two set o’dance
An’ at de bidding tried me chance;
I buy de big crown-bread fe you,
An’ won’t you tek it, Jubba?––do.

   Forgive me, Jubba, Jubba dear, etc.

It was a nice tea-meeting though,
None o’de boy dem wasn’ slow,
An’ it was pack’ wid pretty gal,
So de young man was in dem sall;
But when I member you a yard
I know dat you would t’ink it hard,
Aldough, Jubba, ’twas sake o’ spite
Mek say you wouldn’ come te-night.

   Forgive me, Jubba, Jubba dear, etc.

I lef’ you, Jub, in such a state,
I neber knew dat you would wait;
Yet all de while I couldn’ res’,
De t’ought o’ you was in me breas’;
So nummo time I couldn’ was’e,
But me go get me pillow-case
An’ put in deh you bread an’ cake––
Forgive me, Jubba, fe God sake!

   Forgive me, Jubba, Jubba dear, etc.

From Songs of Jamaica (Aston W. Gardner & Co., 1912) by Claude McKay. This poem is in the public domain.