Folk Songs of Chicago Negroes by Muriel Davis Longini
The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 52, No. 203 (Jan. - Mar., 1939), pp. 96-111
FOLK SONGS OF CHICAGO NEGROES
BY MURIEL DAVIS LONGINI
Chicago negroes are products of the south. Lured northward after the last war by promises of jobs, they arrived in ever-increasing numbers, clustered together in one particular locality, and started living afresh in an environment utterly new to them. Because they have had almost no contact with their white neighbors, who practice a strict isolationist policy, a number of their cultural phenomena, barred from the normal process of assimilation with previously established culture traits, remain wholly foreign to whites. For this reason there are songs that are not heard outside the bounds of the very much down-at-the-heel negro community. An attempt was made to discover whether these songs were products of their dismal Chicago environment, or whether, along with "chittlin's" and Holy Rollers, they were brought up from the south.
A fairly high percent of the lyrics of these songs express the singer's intentions to leave his present locale, and to go far away. This leaning towards "escape" themes is not, however, the reflection of an unfriendly northern environment, as all the singers encountered declared that their songs were composed in the south. That many songs do incorporate a longing to go away, however, may be due to some subconscious process of selection on the part of the migrant-songsters.
The fact that there were no doubts in the minds of the singers as to the southern origin of their songs was deemed sufficient external reason to presume that they did come from below the Ohio river. There is also rich internal evidence that the south cradled these songs. Intimate, but not nostalgic, references to southern towns and trains (Memphis, Birmingham, Macon, Atlanta, "M & O", Dixie Flyer, etc.) crop up repeatedly, and there is mention of the cotton gin, mountain jack (jackass), muddy water and muddy shoes (presumably concomitant with a Mississippi delta existence), a flood, mountains, etc. Nowhere, however, does there appear any reference to the salient features of Chicago negro life, e.g. the stockyards, where large numbers of negroes are employed, South Park Avenue, dwelling place of the colored elite, the policy games, with which the negro district bristles, the dirty, exorbitantly-priced tenements, nearby Lake Michigan, or the flat, smoky landscape.
Folk songs came to the north in two ways: on phonograph records and on the lips of the migrants. A Chicago song's similarity to its earlier, southern version depends on its method of conveyance. Carried to northern hearers by gramophone, the verses will remain intact until local or personal modifications are made. This mechanical aid to the spreading of folk songs is undertaken by recording companies who make "race records." Sending scouts to find negroes who have gained community fame with their singing of colored songs (and who usually accompany themselves on a battered guitar or banjo), the enterprising recording companies secure local bards to make recordings of their best known songs. Without written music, for they improvise the minor-keyed melodies as they go along, and without written words, for these songs have never been captured in pen and ink, the singers perform for the welcome greenbacks that await them.[1] Occasionally, a sophisticated white dance-band leader chances upon a recording, and introduces it to his socialite audience.
Not all the songs, of course, have been recorded, and when they are carried up in the classic folk song tradition-singer face-to-face with audience-the changes they undergo are nothing short of amazing. Tragic songs become meaningless ditties, phrases are twisted, words phonetically similar to those in earlier versions but having different meanings are inserted, verses are truncated or elongated till the songs can barely be recognized as having the same origin. [2]
Blues, particularly, take on chameleon-like characteristics when one attempts to affix them to as stable a medium as paper, for they are intimate and individual pieces that change with the personality of the singer. This mutability is apparent not only in the words, which are changed to fit particular states of mind, [3] but also in the tunes which vary with each individual singer.
The fact that Chicago negroes have come from widely separated sections in the south accounts for the varying versions of any particular song that may be heard in different sections of the community, and it explains, as well, some groups knowing songs of which others are ignorant. Hence, it is difficult to check the currency of any particular song. For instance, a group from the Creole section of Louisiana sings merry little ditties, partly in English, partly in a very provincial French (so provincial, in fact, that the French phrases were transcribed phonetically, as the singer, as well as the transcriber, was ignorant of their meaning).
[1] In several large southern cities where the recording firms have headquarters, unsolicited negroes that could put some money to good use sometimes apply for auditions.
[2] For example, the northern counterpart of a song in a southern blues collection may have phrases that are identical with those in the southern version, but which make no sense in the changed context of the northern song.
[3] Further changes are wrought thus: if in the singing of a song, a line is forgotten, pat phrases or formulas are inserted, e.g. "that's all right, mama, that's all right for you, just anything you do", or "I believe to my soul....
HIPPY TIE YO CHER
I got a hippy tie yo cher,
I got a hippy tie yo cher,
I got a hippy tie yo cher,
I got a hippy tie yo cher.
Somebody stole my gal, cher,
Somebody stole my gal.
Comay sie yea nay,
Comay sie yea nay,
Comay sie yea nay,
Comay sie yea.
LAFAYETTE
I love my Lafayette,
My Lafayette love me,
I love my Lafayette,
And my Lafayette love me.
I'm goin' to Lafayette,
And no one's goin' to turn me 'round;
I'm goin' to Lafayette
To see my high-hat brown. (Incomplete)
"Who made them up?" the thirteen-year old girl who contributed the two above songs was quizzed.
"Oh, the French people down where I come from sing 'em," she replied.
"Do you mean white French people or colored people with some French ancestors or what?" the writer persisted.
"Oh, they're all mixed up," she giggled, "they're a little bit of everything."
The following "John Henry" fragment is a greatly corrupted version (if any version of a folk song can ever be called corrupted) of what is, perhaps, the most universally known negro folk song:
John Henry was a low man,
And the mountains ten miles high.
John Henry so low and the mountains so high,
That he laid down his hammer and cried,
And he laid down his hammer and cried.
John Henry told his captain
That a man is nothing but a man.
Before I'll let this steel go down,
I would die with the hammer in my hand.
I would die with the hammer in my hand.
The blues comprise the greater portion of the songs; they are complaints about faithless or harsh lovers, nagging women, and express in most cases a desire to "get even" with the heartless one.
MEAN AND MISTREATIN'
You'se a dirty mistreater,
And you mistreats me all the time;
And I give you my money,
But you don't pay me no mine.
You'se a mean, mistreatin' mama,
And you don't mean me no good,
But that's all right, baby,
I'll be the same way if I could.
You'se a no good weed;
I'm gonna let the cows come and moo you down,
If you don't take heed, good baby,
Make the police run you out of town.
You can mistreat me here, but you can't when I get home.
I got somebody there
For to make you leave me alone.
THAT'LL NEVER HAPPEN NO MO' [Sung by a negro musician, Blind Blake.]
That'll never happen no mo',
That'll never happen no mo'.
She whipped me from the kitchen back to the do'
But that'll never happen no mo'.
MUDDY WATER BLUES
I'd rather drink muddy water and be sleeping like a log,
Than to be living with you, treated like a dog. (Incomplete)
THE M AND O BLUES
My baby's gone and she won't be back no mo'.
She left me this morning and she caught that M and 0.
I'm goin' to buy me a ticket just as long as I am tall,
Goin' down town and git that Cannon Ball.
Look'y here, baby, what you want me to do?
I'll do anything in this wide, round world to satisfy you.
I'M GOIN' AWAY, BABY, TO WEARY YOU OFF MY MIND
I'm goin' away, baby, to weary you off my mind,
You keep me worried and bothered all the time.
I've tried everything just to satisfy you,
I've tried everything just to satisfy you,
I'm goin', I'm goin', cryin' ain't gonna make me stay,
The mo' you cry, the farther you drive me away.
WHY DON'T YOU QUIT THAT DOGGIN' ME?
Why don't you quit that doggin' me?
Dog me in the morning, dog me at night,
I can tell you something, baby,
That is little too tight.
Now, baby, quit that doggin' me.
Little old woman, long tall woman, too,
I ain't gonna tell my long, tall mama
What my little old mama do.
Wasn't for high brown and powder
And the store-bought hair,
The Chicago women couldn't go nowhere.
Now, baby, quit that doggin' me.
Some people goes to Memphis
Just to see the town,
But I goes to Memphis
To do my runnin' round.
So now, baby, quit that doggin' me.
ME AND MY BABY
Me and my baby just making friends,
Lord have mercy, she done caught me wrong again.
Now, baby, you done caught me wrong again.
I have a little money, but I have none to spend,
But Lord have mercy, baby, you done caught me wrong again.
Now, Lord, you done caught me wrong again.
The people's all talking 'bout something I done,
But lookee here, baby, I just only have my fun.
I ain't makin' no cotton,
I have none to gin,
But Lord have mercy, you done caught me wrong again.
LOUISE (popularized by a white dance-band leader)
I believe to my soul, baby, somebody been fishin' in my pond,
And been catching all my men, and haven't been givin' me a one.
Louise is the sweetest girl I know.
She made me walk from Chicago to the gulf of Mexico.
Lookee here, Louise, I tell you what you must do,
You can't love me and love another man, too.
Louise is the sweetest girl I know.
She made me walk from Chicago to the gulf of Mexico.
TROUBLE IN MIND
Trouble in mind, I'm blue, but I won't be blue always,
Because the sun goin' to shine in my back door some day.
I'm goin' to lay my head on some lonesome railroad line,
And let some old passenger train come and ease my wearied mind.
My best gal done left me and it sure do grieve my mind.
Sometime I feel like cryin' and sometime I feel like dyin'.
I'm goin' down to the river, I'm goin' to take my rocking chair,
And if the blues don't leave me I'm goin' to rock on away from here.
I'm troubled in mind, I'm blue; my poor heart is beatin' slow.
I've never been so troubled in my life befo'.
LOW DOWN DIRTY SHAME
It's a low, it's a low, it's a low down dirty shame.
It's a low, it's a low, it's a low down dirty shame.
I'm crazy about a married woman, 'fraid to call her name.
She is a no good woman, she doesn't mean no one man no good,
She is a no good woman, she doesn't mean no one man no good,
I'd don't blame you, baby, I'd be the same way if I could.
Baby, that's all right, baby, that's all right for you.
Baby, that's all right, baby, that's all right for you.
Baby, that's all right, just any old way you do.
MUDDY SHOES
Oh, tell me, baby, whose muddy shoes are these?
Oh, tell me, baby, whose muddy shoes are these?
You've got them setting right where my heart should be. Oh, yes!
I work all night and come home just 'fore day.
I work all night and come home just 'fore day.
You'se a no good woman, you'd do a man any way. Yes, yes!
Oh, goodbye, baby, yes, I'm goin' away.
Oh, goodbye, baby, yes, I'm goin' away.
I'm leavin' town. I'm goin' away to stay. Yes, yes!
Hey, hey, mama, that's all right for you.
Hey, hey, mama, that's all right for you.
Come tell your daddy what you want him to do.
OH LAWDY, MAMA
Oh, Lawdy, mama, the woman I love got a mouth chock full of gold,
Oh, Lawdy, mama, great God-a-mighty now.
The woman I love got a mouth chock full of gold.
The woman I love got a mole below her nose.
The woman I love she got a mole below her nose.
Every time she kiss me she make my blood run cold.
MATCH BOX BLUES Attributed to Blind Lemon, a former preacher who went blind, and whose congregation
"done him so bad" he started blues singing.
I just sittin' here wonderin'
Would a match box hold my clothes.
I ain't got so many,
But I got so far to go.
Lookee, here, baby, see what you done done,
Oh, Lawd, you done made me love you,
Now your man done come.
I'm just sittin' here wonderin'
Will a match box hold my clothes.
I ain't got so many,
But I got so far to go.
Now if anybody asks you
Who composed this song,
Tell him it's a jet black man
Done been here and gone.
Now I'm just sittin' here wonderin'
Will a match box hold my clothes,
I ain't got so many,
But I got so far to go.
When I leave this town,
Hang a black crepe on yo' door;
I won't be dead,
But I ain't comin' here no more.
I'm just sittin' here wonderin'
Will a match box hold my clothes,
I ain't got so many,
But I got so far to go.
SIXTY-ONE HIGHWAY
Sixty-one Highway is the longest highway I know,
Come from New York City to the Gulf of Mexico*
Many people talk about Sixty-one,
That's the highway I always rove.
Lady friends and people jest couldn't be no tow.
Sixty-one, Sixty-one, don't let me down here,
There's nobody here, no one to feel my lonesome care.
*A formula-see "Louise," above.
Sixty-One Highway (Second version): The second version was contributed by a woman who said the song was written by a friend of hers who had been a prisoner in a southern chain gang. Sometime later the transcriber met the friend and was given the first version as an example of his poetic prowess. Where and how the song "split up" is a matter of conjecture.
Sixty-one Highway is the longest road I know,
It takes me from New York back to old Mexico.
The woman I love, she's long and tall,
She can swish that thing like a cannon ball.
Got eyes like diamonds, her teeth shine like pearls,
I love that woman, the best in this world.
CHAMPION'S SONG
I hate to see that evenin' sun go down,
Cause it makes me think I'm on my last go-round.
I went to the river, got me a rockin' chair,
So if trouble overtake, I can rock all the way from here.
I told my baby, like the Dago told the Jew,
If you don't want me, cinch I don't want you.
It's really two nations that I can't understand,
That's a Dago woman, and a Chinee-man.
Now hook to your buggy, I'll pull just like a mule,
I got a hung-down head, but still I ain't no fool.
I heard somebody talking and I looked around,
Now you know I hate to see that evenin' sun go down,
Cause it makes me think I'm on my last go-round.
I can stand in Bethlehem, see the light in Birmingham,
If you ever get two womens, get yo'self in a jam.
So now I hate to see that evenin' sun go down,
Cause it makes me think I'm on my last go-round.
SCHOOL BOY BLUES
Early one Monday morning I was on my way to school,
Early one Monday morning I was on my way to school,
I met a forty-year old woman;
She made me break my mama's rule.
Mama tried to send me, but I threw my books away,
Mama tried to send me, but I threw my books away,
I said I might go tomorrow,
But I sure ain't goin' today.
You know my Tuesday woman, she lives down on Fourth and Main,
You know my Tuesday woman, she lives down on Fourth and Main,
You know my Wednesday woman gives me spending change.
(probably incomplete)
I'M SELLIN' THAT STUFF
I'm sellin' that stuff,
I'm sellin' that stuff,
I'm gettin' sick and tired about tellin' you
About sellin' that stuff.
Ole lame Jane, she sold it to a baker,
And she sold it to the butcher,
Old lame Jane, she is sellin' that stuff.
(incomplete)
SELLIN' THAT STUFF In the following song, as in many of the other blues, the lines contain double meaning, the below-the-surface import being of sexual connotation.
Aunt Jane had a dance and she had a crowd,
She sold more whisky than the law allowed;
She's sellin' that stuff,
Aunt Jane, she's sellin' that stuff,
She can really break the record
When it comes to sellin' that stuff.
Aunt Jane stayed out all night long,
She didn't come home till the break of dawn,
She's sellin' that stuff,
She can really break that record
When it comes to sellin' that stuff.
Took Aunt Jane to the county jail,
She didn't need anybody to go her bail,
She's sellin' that stuff.
She sold some corn and she sold some gin,
She sold it to the women and she sold it to the men.
She's still sellin' that stuff,
She's still sellin' that stuff.
Uncle Jim went to jail with a heavy load,
They give him thirty days on the county road
For buyin' that stuff.
He can really break the record when it comes to buyin' that stuff.
Aunt Jane got a sister and her name is Lil,
She used to sell that stuff and she's sellin' it still,
That's sellin' that stuff, that's sellin' that stuff,
That really break the record when it comes to sellin' that stuff.
Sell that stuff! Sell that stuff!
She can really break the record when it comes to sellin' that stuff.
HESITATIN' BLUES
I've got my hesitatin' stockings,
And yo' hesitatin' shoes.
Takes a hesitatin' woman
To sing the hesitatin' blues.
Got a nickel's worth of coffee,
And a dime's worth of rice;
I'm gonna crucify your mother,
Like the Jews did Christ.
Now tell me how long,
Baby, will I have to wait?
Hesitatin' blues, they'll make me red,
I'll believe these hesitatin' blues
Gonna kill me dead.
Now, baby, how long,
Baby, will I have to wait?
I can't wear no diamonds, can't wear ring.
But that's not nothing, I don't mean a thing.
Now, how long, baby, will I have to wait?
MILK COW BLUES- Attributed to "Big Boy Fuller, a blind boy".
I wish you was dead, how can I milk you?
You won't back your leg.
Now, please, Lawd, help me find my cow.
I ain't had no milk and butter
Since my milk-cow been gone.
I went down in the pasture,
Didn't intend to go;
I know my milk-cow by the way she low.
So now, Lawd, help me to find my cow.
I was out on the plank walk,
Heard somebody laugh,
W'ant anything interestin', only my milk-cow found a calf.
So now, Lawd, help me to find my cow.
LEFT MY GAL IN THE MOUNTAIN
I left my gal in the mountain,
I left her waitin' in the rain,
I went out to the railroad
And I caught myself the midnight train.
I beat my way into Georgia,
I got myself in .(incomplete)
They took me to Atlanta,
They locked me in Atlanta jail,
I had no one to love me,
And I had no one to go my bail.
I thought about my baby,
I said I'm coming back to you
(incomplete)
FOUR WHITE HORSES- Also attributed to Blind Lemon.
There are four white horses in a line,
There are four white horses in a line,
There are four white horses in a line,
And they took away that baby mine.
Did you ever hear that church bell tone?
Did you ever hear that church bell tone?
Did you ever hear that church bell tone?
Then you know that the poor boy's dead and gone.
There's a long, long lane ain't got no end,
There's a long, long lane ain't got no end,
There's a long, long lane ain't got no end,
And it's a bad ill wind that never change.
BLACK SNAKE MOAN Attributed to "Big Boy Fuller, a blind boy".
I ain't got no mama now,
She told me late last night;
You don't need no daddy nohow.
Black snake crawled in my room,
Black snake crawled in my room,
Some pretty mama had better come and get this black snake soon.
That's all right, mama,
That's all right, mama for you,
That's all right, mama, just any old way you do.
Black snake crawl in my bed,
Black snakes crawl in my bed,
Sometime I, sometime I wish, mama, that I was dead.
PEETIE WHEET STRAW- Peetie Wheet Straw is the pseudonym of a blues singer who makes recordings.
I am Peetie Wheet Straw, the high sheriff of hell,
I am Peetie Wheet Straw, the high sheriff of hell,
And when I lock you up, baby, you're locked in a dungeon cell.
I am Peetie Wheet Straw, the devil's son-in-law,
I am Peetie Wheet Straw, the devil's son-in-law,
The woman I married, old Satan was her paw.
My woman seemed to like me.
After I married this woman, it was like being tied to a ball and chain,
After I married this woman, it was like being tied to a ball and chain,
It makes no difference, mama, I'll treat you nice just the same.*
*Admittedly a substitute for a forgotten phrase.
BACK WATER BLUES- Refers to a flood in the middle 1920's.
Back water rising, comin' all in my do',
I believe to my soul I can't live here no mo'.
Back water risin', comin' all in my house,
I believe to my soul, I got to move out.
Children screaming, mothers crying, Lord what can I do?
Children screaming, mothers crying, Lord what can I do?
I believe to my soul I got those back water blues.
TRUCKIN' MAMA
She's my truckin' mama, truckin' my blues away,
She's my truckin' mama, truckin' my blues away,
Truck all night, truck all day,
Come on, baby, while yo' daddy play,
Keep on truckin', mama, truckin' my blues away.
When I'm worried, mama, there's nothin' I can do,
When I'm worried, mama, there's nothin' I can do,
But think about you, baby, but later I'll send for you.
HOW LONG
How long, baby, how long since that evenin' train been gone?
How long, babe, how long.
Woke up this mornin' bout half past four,
I call my baby, she wasn't here no more.
If I could holler like a mountain jack,
I'd go up on a mountain, call my baby back.
How long, babe, how long?
BLACK SNAKE DREAM
Don'ty ou heart he train comin' down the railroad track?
Don'ty ouh eart he train comin' down the railroad track,
With the black smoke rollin'c, omin'f romt heo ld smokes tack?
I gonna ride that train, eighteen coaches long,
I gonna ride that train, eighteen coaches long,
(incomplete)
Negro workers of many kinds, from coal shovellers to watermelon venders, have songs pertaining to their occupations. The writer obtained only one such song*:
LOUISIANA WATERMELON-PEDLER'S SONG
Watermelons fresh and f ine,
Watermelons right off the vine,
Come and get your nice, sweet watermelons,
Only a dime!
*William Henry Smith, musical director of the Olivet Baptist Church in Chicago, and a student of his race's songs, will soon publish a collection of "work songs".
"Old Lost John", known in its original state as "Long Gone", has passed from deadly seriousness to childish doggerel. The song describes an actual event. Long John, a convict, heard that a plan was afoot to try
out the prison's new blood-hounds on him, and that he would be given the distance around the court house as a "handicap". Planning accordingly, he set a trap in a barrel, and when the leader of the hounds ran into
the trap, the others stopped. Long John escaped*:
LONG GONE-earlier account
Did you ever hear the story of long John Dean?
A bold bank robber from Bowling Green,
Was sent to the jailhouse yesterday,
Late last night he made his getaway.
Long John stood on the railroad tie
Waiting for a freight train to come by,
Freight train came just puffin' and flyin',
Ought-a seen Long John grabbin' that blind.
He's Long Gone from Kentucky, Long Gone ain't he lucky,
Long Gone and what I mean, he's Long Gone from Bowling Green.
They offered a reward to bring him back,
Even put blood hounds on his track,
Doggone blood hounds lost his scent,
Now nobody knows where Long John went.
(Sophisticated additions to this version are omitted) *Handy, W. C. Blues; An Anthology, Albert and Charles Boni, New York, 1926, p. 45. See also Odum and Johnson, p. 227.
OLD LOST JOHN-later account
Lost John sitting on a railroad track,
Waiting for a freight train to come back.
Freight train come back and didn't make no stops,
Lost John thought he had to ride on top.
Along came a Dixie Flyer, just behind time;
He missed the cow-catcherb, ut he caught the blind.
He's along, along gone.
Lost John made a pair of shoes of his own,
Best pair of shoes that ever was b'ohn,
Heel in front and heel behind,
Couldn't tell which way Lost John was gwine.
He's along, he's along gone.
Quartet: Poor Lost John!
The following dance song is in the folksy square dance tradition:
We have landed many thousands
To turn the humble Zee,
We have landed many thousands
To turn the humble Zee.
Chorus: Turn that lady in the humble Zee,
Humble Zee, humble Zee,
Swing her all night long.
Negro children have their own songs, too:
Way down yonder in the city town
Folks have to work till the sun goes down.
Ain't that right? Soup! Soup!
Rabbits in their hide. Cut up their dives.*
Soup! Soup!
All around Lula, pretty little Lou,
All around Lula, pretty little Lou.
Right back to Macon, pretty little Lou.
Right back to Macon, pretty little Lou.
*Because the person who transcribed this song for the writer cannot be found, the exact meaning of "dives" remains a mystery. It probably, however, means "entrails", and may have emerged, through some devious etymological process, from "deviscerate" or "divellicate"