I's a nigger, an' a nigger's so much more 'cute dan a white man dat you shouldn't ought to expect him to blab his massa's secrets." "Right you are, Moses.

Come, then, if you won't reweal secrets, give us a song." "Couldn't t'ink ob such a t'ing," said the negro, with a solemn, remonstrant shake of the head.
"Why not ?" "'Cause I neber sing a song widout a moral, an' I don't like to hurt your feelin's by singin' a moral dat would be sure to waken up _some_ o' your consciences." "Never mind that, darkey.

Our consciences are pretty tough.

Heave ahead." "But dere's a chorus," said Moses, looking round doubtfully.
"What o' that?
We'll do our best with it--if it ain't too difficult." "Oh, it's not diffikilt, but if de lazy fellers among you sings de chorus dey'll be singin' lies, an' I don't 'zackly like to help men to tell lies.

Howseber, here goes.