Louis Armstrong
Pickin’ on Your Baby
Mammy why, said Pickaninny
Crying to his mammy Jinny
Do the white boys pick on me
And they never let me be
And I must not play in their yard
Ain’t I just as nice as they are?
They won’t let me in their games
And they call me names
Are they pickin’ on your baby
‘Cause I’m a picaninny rose?
Mammy don’t they know
That they should not treat me so
Why, don’t they know that ev’ry dark cloud
Inside is silv’ry lined?
Mammy why are they pickin’ on me
All the time?
Oh, won’t you tell them all about me
Ain’t I the sweetest rose that grows?
That’s what you said and I suppose you know
Now ain’t that so?
Day by day in ev’ry way
When they get together
They go from bad to worse
Instead of getting better
Are they pickin’ on your baby
‘Cause I’m a picaninny rose?