I. Working on The Railroad 3-41
"Take a mule an' a track jack,
Fer to line dis track back."
John Henry - 03
Steel Laying Holler- 10
The Heavy-Hipted Woman - 13
Tie Shuffling Chant - 14
Tie Tamping Chant - 17
Good-by, Pretty Mama - 20
Paddy Works on the Erie - 20
Mike - 23
The Gila Monster Route - 24
Hallelujah, Bum Again - 26
Ten Thousand Miles from Home - 28
The Wreck on the C. & 0 - 31
Nachul-Born Easman - 34
Casey Jones - 36
The Wreck of the Six-Wheel Driver - 39
Ol' John Brown - 40
Charley Snyder - 41
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JOHN HENRY*
TAKING a long chance on the weather, my guide, Manny Campbell, and I made the trip of three miles from Edisto to Fen-wick [Island] in a rowboat. . . . Suddenly a stiff, cold wind came from the north, and a few moments later the rain began to fall in torrents. . . . Manny and I took refuge in a two-room cabin where two women and several children were sitting around an open fire trying to keep warm, . . . With the help of Manny, I soon got one of the women to 'talk some ol' storee.' This good fortune did not last long. George White, husband of the story teller, came in from the field wet and disgusted, dampening the spirit of the party. There was too much rain, the rain was going to rot the potatoes, the cabbage and lettuce were going to ruin, the whole damned island was a hell of a place. . . . After his temper had cooled a little, his wife reminded him that it would be a good idea for him to row down to Bennett's Point for some supplies.
'"We got grits, enty?' said White. 'We can git along till tomorrow.'
"His wife was silent for a few minutes, then again suggested the great need of food for the family.
"Great Gawd!" growled George, 'go out in dis wedder? Not me, I got enough o' boats for a w'ile.' He launched into a story of a row-boat trip. . . . He had rowed all day and half the night. . . .
" 'My hands am' got over it yet. . . . W'en I got here my hands was gripped to dem oar. ... I couldn' even turn dem oar a-loose. Dey had to take 'em out o' my hands for me.'
'T'ink of ol John Henry,' said his wife. 'If he could die wid dat hammer in his hand, you ought not to fuss about rowin' two mile to git us somethin' to eat-'
" 'Dat's all right,' replied George, 'but I ain't a-gwine a-die wid no oar in my hand if I can help it!'
"At the mention of John Henry my spirits went up considerably. 1 had only been waiting for an auspicious moment to bring him in myself. When the laughter over George's drollery had subsided, I professed an interested ignorance about John Henry. Getting up from his box-seat he began to tell how he had heard about John Henry. ... As his story progressed, George grew more and more eloquent. He stood behind the dining table, wet slouch hat hanging down over one eye, acting out the story as he went. . . .
" 'It was de flesh ag'in de steam,' he concluded. 'De flesh ag'in de steam.'
"Manny seemed thrilled but saddened by the tale. It was his introduction to John Henry, and White's telling made a deep impression on him. He encouraged the narrator with frequent interjections such as 'Dat's right' and 'Lawd-Jeesus!' At the climax he had stared wide-eyed for several seconds.
"John Henry was a magic wand. George White was more than pleased with himself. He consented to 'talk oP storee/ and later I saw him in his boat pulling for Bennett's Point.
"Crossing back to Edisto Island was not exactly a pleasure. Wind and tide were against us, and the cold rain soaked us. . . . Manny cast apprehensive glances over his shoulder. . .
" 'Going to make it?' I asked.
" 'Yas-suh! I jus' been study about dat John Henry. If dat man could beat de steam, I t'ink I bring dis ol' boat back to dat landin' all right. If I don't, I'll die wid dese oar in my hand if I can help it'
"Thus does the story of John Henry, half a century after its origin, continue to capture the imagination of those who hear it for the first time." **
[*Story made from Carl Sandburg's Songbag, from Professor Guy Johnson's John Henry, and from various Negro singers in Southern penitentiaries.]
[** From John Henry by Guy B. Johnson (Chapel Hill, N.C.: Univeriity of North Carolina Press, 1929).]
JOHN HENRY
John Henry was a li'l baby, uh-huh,*
Sittin' on his mama's knee, oh, yeah,*
Said: "De Big Bend Tunnel on de C. & O. road
Gonna cause de death of me,
Lawd, Lawd, gonna cause de death of me."
John Henry, he had a woman,
Her name was Mary Magdalene,
She would go to de tunnel and sing for John,
Jes' to hear John Henry's hammer ring,
Lawd, Lawd, jes' to hear John Henry's hammer ring.
John Henry had a li'l woman,
Her name was Lucy Ann,
John Henry took sick an' had to go to bed,
Lucy Ann drove steel like a man,
Awright, awright.
Ev'rybody get ready.
Lawd, Lawd, Lucy Ann drove steel like a man.
Cap'n says to John Henry,
"Gonna bring me a steam drill 'round,
Gonna take dat steam drill out on de job,
Gonna whop dat steel on down,
Lawd, Lawd, gonna whop dat steel on down."
John Henry tol' his cap'n,
Lightnin' was in his eye:
"Cap'n, bet yo' las' red cent on me,
Fo' I'll beat it to de bottom or I'll die,
Lawd, Lawd, I'll beat it to de bottom or I'll die."
Sun shine hot an' burnin',
Wer'n't no breeze a-tall,
Sweat ran down like water down a hill,
Dat day John Henry let his hammer fall,
Lawd, Lawd, dat day John Henry let his hammer fall.
John Henry went to de tunnel,
An' dey put him in de lead to drive,
De rock so tall an' John Henry so small,
Dat he lied down his hammer an' he cried,
Lawd, Lawd, dat he lied down his hammer an' he cried.
John Henry started on de right hand,
De steam drill started on de lef'—
"Before I'd let dis steam drill beat me down,
I'd hammer my fool self to death,
Lawd, Lawd, I'd hammer my fool self to death."
White man tol' John Henry,
"Nigger, damn yo' soul,
You might beat dis steam an' drill of mine,
When de rocks in dis mountain turn to gol',
Lawd, Lawd, when de rocks in dis mountain turn to gol' "
John Henry said to his shaker,
"Nigger, why don' you sing?
I'm throwin' twelve poun's from my hips on down,
Jes' listen to de col' steel ring,
Lawd, Lawd, jes' listen to de col' steel ring."
Oh, de captain said to John Henry,
"I b'lieve this mountain's sinkin' in' "
John Henry said to his captain, oh my!
"Ain' nothin' but my hammer suckin' win',
Lawd, Lawd, ain' nothin' but my hammer suckin' win'."
John Henry tol' his shaker,
"Shaker, you better pray,
For, if I miss dis six-foot steel,
Tomorrow'll be yo' buryin' day,
Lawd, Lawd, tomorrow'll be yo' buryin' day."
John Henry tol' his captain,
"Looka yonder what I see—
Yo' drill's done broke an' yo' hole's done choke,
An' you cain' drive steel like me,
Lawd, Lawd, an' you cain' drive steel like me."
De man dat invented de steam drill,
Thought he was mighty fine.
John Henry drove his fifteen feet,
An' de steam drill only made nine,
Lawd, Lawd, an' de steam drill only made nine.
De hammer dat John Henry swung,
It weighed over nine pound;
He broke a rib in his lef'-han' side,
An' his intrels fell on de groun',
Lawd, Lawd, an' his intrels fell on de groun'.
John Henry was hammerin' on de mountain,
An* his hammer was strikin' fire,
He drove so hard till he broke his pore heart,
An' he lied down his hammer an' he died,
Lawd, Lawd, he lied down his hammer an' he died.
All de womens in de Wes',
When dey heared of John Henry's death,
Stood in de rain, flagged de eas'-boun' train,
Goin' where John Henry fell dead,
Lawd, Lawd, goin' where John Henry fell dead.
John Henry's lil mother,
She was all dressed in red,
She jumped in bed, covered up her head,
Said she didn' know her son was dead,
Lawd, Lawd, didn' know her son was dead.
John Henry had a pretty lil woman,
An' de dress she wo' was blue,
An' de las' words she said to him:
"John Henry, I've been true to you,
Lawd, Lawd, John Henry, I've been true to you."
"Oh, who's gonna shoe yo' lil feetses,
An' who's gonna glub yo' han's,
An' who's gonna kiss yo' rosy, rosy lips,
An' who's gonna be yo' man,
Lawd, Lawd, an' who's gonna be yo' man?"
"Oh, my mama's gonna shoe my li'l feetses,
An' my papa's gonna glub my lil han's,
An' my sister's gonna kiss my rosy, rosy lips,
An' I don' need no man, Lawd,
Lawd, an' I don' need no man."
Dey took John Henry to de graveyard,
An' dey buried him in de san',
An' every locomotive come roarin' by,
Says, "Dere lays a steel-drivin' man,
Lawd, Lawd, dere lays a steel-drivin' man."
[*The syllables "uh-huh" and "oh, yeah" are to be repeated after each stanza.]
JOHN HENRY [A Variant]
"Here is a song you may not know. I learned it from a white man who said he learned it from Negroes. As it stands it is too perfect for a Negro song, but, to me, it bears the earmarks of Negro origin, and the same holds true of the tune—which I wish I could transmit."
John Henry was a steel drivin' man
And he drove at the head of his squad.
One day the head of his hammer come off
And he laid down his hammer and he died, by God,
Yes, he laid down his hammer and he died.
John Henry's wife came out of the east
And she come all dressed in blue,
Looked down at her pretty little feet—
And I wish my wife was true, by
God, Yes, I wish my wife was true.
John Henry's wife came out of the east,
And she come all dressed in red,
Looked down at her pretty little feet—
And I wish my wife was dead, by God,
Yes, I wish my wife was dead.
Now Rattler was a good coon dog,
But as blind as he could be,
Treed fourteen possums up an old gum stump,
And I thought old Rattler could see, by God,
Yes, I thought old Rattler could see.
Went up on the mountain,
And I thought he'd treed a coon,
But when I got close to where the old dog was,
Old Rattler was a-barkin' at the moon, by God,
Yes, old Rattler was a-barkin' at the moon.
[*This stanza and the two preceding are quoted from Odum and Johnson's Negro Workaday Songs, t R. V. Utter, R.F.D. No. 1, Clayton, Mo.]
STEEL LAYING HOLLER
Rochelle Harris, Chattanooga, Tennessee, went without his supper to record this chant for us. Once he had been the foreman of a steel-laying gang whose job it was to unload rails from a flat-car and then place them in position on the ties. The first qualification in the South for a foreman of this sort is that he have a good voice and a fine sense of rhythm, along with the ability to improvise. A regulation railroad iron weighs nearly two tons, and it takes fourteen good stout men to handle it safely and easily. To keep these men working together so that none of them would strain himself unduly or get in the way of the falling rail, then, Rochelle chanted the following directions and in the tenderest manner imaginable. Note the frequently occurring "nows."
Awright, awright.
Ev'rybody get ready.
Come on down here, come on, boys. (The men group themselves at
the end of the rail.) Bow down. (They bend over and lay hold of the rail.)
Awright, up high. (They lift the rail up to chest level.) Awright, throw 'way. (They push it away, off the car.)
Awright, le's move on down 'n' git another one, Awright, bow down. Awright, head high, Throw 'way.
Awright, da's awright now* Move on down ag'in. Bow down. Up high. Throw 'way.
Come on down here, boys, come on down now, come on now.
Now, boys, now, stop.
An' I want you to listen at me, now.
I'm gonna tell you a sad warnin' now, (Don' git hurt.)
Bow down easy, boys.
Head high, boys.
Throw it away.
Come on down here, boys, come on down now, come on now.
Now, boys, now, stop.
When I git dis las' one,
I'm goin' home to Julie an' tell her what I have made by dis hard
labor. Bow down easy, boys. Head high, boys. Throw it away!
HEAVY HIPT WOMAN
Quit yo' long-time talkin' 'bout yo' heavy-hipted woman,
She done gone, oh, babe, she done gone.
Quit yo' long-time talkin' 'bout yo' heavy-hipted woman,
She done gone, oh, babe, she done gone.
Got my learnin' from a coal-black nigger,
In de mines, oh, babe, in de mines.
My woman, she keeps on a-grumblin',
'Bout a new pair o' shoes, oh, babe, 'bout a new pair o' shoes.
I gave her five silver dollars,
Jus' to buy some tans, oh, babe, jus' to buy some tans.
She come back a-whoopin' an a-holl'in',
When he barks, he ro' like thunder,
All under de groun', oh, babe, all under de groun'.
When you hear my pistol shooting
'Nother man's dead, oh, babe, 'nother man's dead.
When you hear dat peafowl hollrin',
Sign o' rain, oh, babe, sign o' rain.
When you hear dat blue goose holler,
Gwineta tu'n col', oh, babe, gwineta tu'n col'.
When I cross dat wide ol' mountain,
I'll be free, oh, babe, den I'll be free.
Take my houn' dog an' give it to my brother,
Tell him I'm gone, oh, babe, tell him I'm gone.
You may look till yo' eye runs water,
I won' be back, oh, babe, I won' be back.
TIE-SHUFFLING CHANT
Black Samson, having refused to sing anything that had to do with "worl'ly" and thus sinful matters, objected not at all to this work song. He furnished the air and, along with other Negro convicts in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Tennessee, the verses.
"Tie-shuffling" is the lining or straightening out of a railroad track. To understand the work-rhythm that forms this chant it will be necessary to describe Henry Trevelyan's section gang as it worked to tune.
Henry, the foreman, stooped over and squinted off down the shining rail; then stood up and bawled out directions to his gang in the impossibly technical language of the railroad. They, with heavy wooden bars on their shoulders, trotted off down the track, jammed their lining bars down under the rail on the inner side, and braced against them. One of their number, a handsome yellow man, when he was sure that they were ready to heave, threw back his head and sang. On the first and next to the last beat of every verse, each man threw his weight against his bar; the refrain was repeated until Henry, who had kept his eye to the rail meanwhile, shouted his directions about the next "johnnyhead." At that signal the song was broken off, the gang stopped heaving, and the whole scene was repeated a few yards on down the track. The accented syllables represent the concerted movements of the gang against their lining bars.
Leader: Ho, boys, is you right?
Gang: I done got right.
Leader: Ef I could I sholy would,
Stan' on de rock where Moses stood.
Chorus: Ho, boys, cancha line 'em,
Ho, boys, cancha line 'em,
Ho, boys, cancha line 'em?
See Eloise go linin' track.
The following stanzas are a few among the many couplets of this widely current song of the Negro section gangs,
Ol' Moses stood on de Red Sea shore,
Smote de water wid a two-by-four
(Chorus) Way down yonder in de holler o' de fiel',
Angels workin' on de chariot wheeL
Mary, Marthy, Luke, an' John,
All dem 'ciples dead an' gone.
I got a woman on Jennielee Square,
Ef you would die easy, lemme ketch you dere.*
The reason I stay wid my cap'n so long,
Ever' mornin' gimme bisquits to rear back on.
Little Evaline settin' in de shade,
Figurin' on de money I done made.
July de red bug, July de fly,
Ef Augus' am' a hot month, Lawdy, I pray to die.
You keep on talkin' 'bout join-'er-ahead,
Never said nothin' 'bout my hog an' bread.
Went to de mountain, to de tip-top,
See my baby do de Eagle-Rock.
Jack de rabbit, Jack de bear,
Cain' you move it jes' a hair?
[*This stanza and the two following are quoted from Odum and Johnson- Negro Workaday Sengs (Chapel Hill, N.C.: University of North Carolina Press, 1926).
[* Pronounced "jonny head."]
Wid a pair o' brogans, oh, babe, wid a pair o' brogans.
Got a bulldog weighin' nine hunderd,
In my back yard, oh, babe, in my back yard.
When you hear my bulldog barkin',
Somebody's 'roun', oh, babe, somebody's 'roun'
All I hate 'bout limn' track,
Dese oP bars 'bout to break my back.
Jes' lemme tell you what de cap'n done,
Looked at his watch an' he looked at de sun.
Chorus: 'Ho, boys, you cain' quit,
Ho, boys, it ain' time,
Ho, ho, you cain' quit,
Sun am' gone down yit.
TIE-TAMPING CHANT
Rochelle Harris, after a shovel had been found for him, stood before the microphone, tapped the cement floor, and sang, just as if he were out on some railroad line, under the hot sun, packing in gravel around a tie. The accents in the music and text represent the blows of the tamper or the shoveL
Chorus:
Oh, tamp 'em up solid,
So dey won' come down,
Oh, tamp 'em up solid, / / /
Buddy, so dey won' come down,
Refrain:
Oh, you can do it,
Oh, you can do it, . , „
This last line is to be repeated as long as it is necessary to keep tamping at the same place.
The stanzas that can be and are used in this chant, follow. They sing to the same tune as the chorus,
Ef I'd 'a' knowed dat my cap'n was blin',
I wouldn' went to work till de clock struck half-pas' nine.
Oh, de cap'n done learnt me how to make a day— Jes' rap on de railin' an' pass de time away.
I got a new way o' tampin' dat de cap'n don' lak, I kin tamp 'em up solid an' never ben' my back.
You fool de cap'n, an' I fool de straw,
But de gen'l road manager, he gonna fool us all.
Oh, de ol' folks tell us dat de right will win;
We're on an eight-hour system, an' de cap'n works us ten.
Mary got a baby, an' I know it ain' mine, I b'lieve it is de cap'n's 'cause he goes dere all de time.
"Pay day tomorrow." "How do you know?"
"Cap'n tol' de water-boy, an' de water-boy toP me so."
T.P.* an' de Morgan runnin' side by side, T.P. toP de Morgan, "Don' let no hobo ride."
T.P. an' de Morgan runnin' side by side, T.P. throwed water, water in de Morgan's eye.
Mattie, when you marry, git a railroad man. Ev'y day be Sunday, an' a dollar be in yo' han'
Mattie an' de baby was a-layin' in de bed,
Mattie's got a fever, an' de baby's got an achin' in de head.
Oh, Mattie an' de baby jes' a-layin' in de shade, A-waitin' for yo' dollar, an' you ain' got nary one cent.
Shake, shake, Mattie, shake, a-rattle an' a-roll,
Oh, shake, shake, Mattie, Mattie want to win my gol'.
* * *
Godamighty made a monkey, Godamighty made a whale, Godamighty made a 'gator wid hickies all over his tail,
All over his tail, All over his tail, etc.
•The Texas & Pacific and the Morgan railroads run through Louisiana, where some verses of this song were recorded.
GOODBYE PRETTY MAMA
I'm gonna take those shoes I bought you, Put yo' feet on de ground Put yo* feet on de groun*,
I'm gonna leave you jes? like I foun7 you, All out an' down, All out an' down,
I ain' gonna buy you nothm' else* When I go to town, When I go to town-
PADDY WORKS
In eighteen hundred and forty-wan I put me cord'roy breeches on, I put me cord'roy breeches on, To work upon the railway.
Refrain:
Fil-i-me-oo-re-i-re-ay, Fil-i-me-oo-re-i-re-ay, Fil-i-me-oo-re-i-re-ay, To work upon the railway.
In eighteen hundred and forty-two,
I left the ould world for the new,
Bad cess to the luck that brought me through,
To work upon the railway.
When we left Ireland to come here, And spend our latter days in cheer, Our bosses they did drink strong beer, And Pat worked on the railway.
Our contractor's name it was Tom King, He kept a store to rob the men,
A Yankee clerk with ink and pen, To cheat Pat on the railroad*
It's "Pat, do this" and "Pat, do that," Without a stocking or cravat, And nothing but an old straw hat, While Pat works on the railroad.
One Monday morning to our surprise* Just half an hour before sunrise, The dirty divil went to the skies, And Pat worked on the railroad.
And when Pat lays him down to sleep, The wiry bugs around him creep, And divil a bit can poor Pat sleep, While he works on the railroad.
In eighteen hundred and forty-three, 'Twas then I met sweet Biddy Magee, And an illygant wife she's been to me, While workin' on the railway.
In eighteen hundred and forty-six,
The gang pelted me with stones and bricks.
Oh, I was in a hell of a fix,
While workin' on the railroad*
In eighteen hundred and forty-seven, Sweet Biddy Magee, she went to heaven, If she left one child, she left eleven, To work upon the railway*
In eighteen hundred and forty-eight, I learned to take my whisky straight, 'Tis an illygant drink and can't be bate, For working on the railway.
MIKE*
Section men a-workin' there all side by sidej Section men a-shirkin', as the hot sun fried.
Chorus:
Damn be the President, My name's Mike, I got a hand in it, I drive the spike.
Mike he come from Tipperary, his name's O'Burke. Fought like he was stewed, but didn't fight to work.
A-levelin' up the road bed ain't no fun,
Nor a-drivin' down the spikes in the boilin' sun.
Heat boils down, and shakes along the blazing rails, Hangs around your head until your mind nearly fails.
Shovel in the ground when he hoists the tie; Supper time a-comin' in the sweet by 'n' by.
Mike was pilin' ties near the ditch by the road
Out among the jimpson where the boys ain't mowed.
He picked up a crosstie without much vim, Blacksnake wiggles up between his pants and him.
Mike lit out for Oklahoma, ain't come back, Showed no hesitation as he tore down the track.
* Caught up with a special, an' he hollered like a man, "Bedad, if you can't run, let me ahead wot canP
»From the Belden Collection Harvard University. Sent by J. Brown.
THE GILA MONSTER ROUTE*
The lingering sunset across the plain, Kissed the rear-end door of an east-bound train* And shone on a passing track close by, Where a dingbat sat on a rotten tie.
He was ditched by a shack and a cruel fate. The con high-balled, and the manifest freight Pulled out on the stem behind the mail, And she hit the ball on a sanded rail*
As she pulled away in the falling night, He could see the gleam of her red tail-light. Then the moon arose and the stars came out— He was ditched on the Gila Monster Route*
Nothing in sight but sand and space j No chance for a gink to feed his face, Not even a shack to beg for a lump, Or a hen-house to frisk for a single gump.
As he gazed far out on the solitude, He dropped his head and began to brood j He thought of the time he lost his mate In a hostile burg on the Nickel Plate.
They had mooched the stem and threw their feet, And speared four-bits on which to eat; But deprived themselves of their daily bread, And sluffed their coin for "dago red"
Down by the track in the jungle's glade, On the cool green grass, in the tules* shade, They shed their coats and ditched their shoes And tanked up full of that colored booze.
* Written for the Railroad Man's M*z**ln*> \>y L. F, Pott and Ciena Norton
Then they took a flop with their skins plumb full, And they did not hear the harnessed bull, Till he shook them out of their boozy nap, With a husky voice and a loaded sap.
They were charged with "vag," for they had no kale, And the judge said, "Sixty days in jail." But the John had a "bindle"—a workers' plea— So they gave him a floater and set him free.
They had turned him up, but ditched his mate, So he grabbed the guts of an east-bound freight, He slung his form on a rusty rod, Till he heard the shack say, "Hit the sod!"
The John piled off, he was in the ditch, With two switch-lamps and a rusty switch, A poor old seedy, half-starved bo, On a hostile pike, without a show.
From away off somewhere in the dark Came the sharp, short note of a coyote's bark. The bo looked round and quickly rose, And shook the dust from his threadbare clothes.
Off in the west through the moonlit night, He saw the gleam of a big headlight— An east-bound stock-train hummed the rail} She was due at the switch to clear the mail.
As she drew up close, the head-end shack
Threw the switch to the passing-track,
The stock rolled in and off the main,
And the line was clear for the west-bound train.
When she hove in sight far up the track,
She was working steam, with her brake-shoes slack.
She hollered once at the whistle-post,
Then she flitted by like a frightened ghost.
He could hear the roar of the big six-wheel,
And her driver's pound on the polished steel,
And the screech of her flanges on the rail,
As she beat it west o'er the desert trail, !
The John got busy and took the risk, !
He climbed aboard and began to frisk,
He reached up high and began to feel,
For the end-door pin—then he cracked the seal.
'Twas a double-decked stock-car filled with sheep—
Old John crawled in and went to sleep.
She whistled twice and high-balled out,
They were off—down the Gila Monster Route.
HALLELUJAH, BUM AGAIN
"The song was found scribbled on the wall of a Kansas City jail where an old hobo, known as ^One-Finger Ellis/ had spent the night, recovering from an overdose of rotgut whisky." George Mil-burn in his Hobo's Hornbook (published by Ives Washburn, New York) quotes the following version of the famous hobo song and gives its source in the above note.
Oh, why don't I work like other men do?
How the hell can I work when the skies are so blue?
Chorus:
Hallelujah, I'm a bum! Hallelujah, bum again, Hallelujah, give 's a handout, Revive us again.
If I was to work and save all I earn,
I could buy me a bar and have money to burn.
Oh, the winter is over and we're all out of jailj We are tired of walking and hungry as hell.
Oh, I ride box cars and I ride fast mails, When it's cold in the winter I sleep in the jails.
I passed by a saloon and I hear someone snore, And I found the bartender asleep on the floor.
I stayed there and drank till a fly-mug came in, And he put me to sleep with a sap on the chin.
Next morning in court I was still in a haze,
When the judge looked at me, he said, "Thirty days."
Some day a long train will run over my head,
And the sawbones will say, "Old One-Finger's dead."
Additional Stanzas
When the springtime does come, oh, won't we have fun? Well throw up our jobs and go on the bum.
Oh, springtime has come, and I'm just out of jail, Ain't got no money, it all went for bail.
I came to a house and I knocked at the door, And the old lady says, "I have saw you before.
"Why don't you work like other men do?"
"How the hell we going to work when there ain't no work to do?"
TEN THOUSAND MILE FROM HOMEA*
Chorus:
Watch her and catch her And jump her juberju, Release the brakes and let her go, The bums will ride her through.
Chorus:
Don't stop for water, Just catch it on the fly, Will I get Holy Moses, On the Pennsylvania line!
Get out, get out, you dirty bum, You're on the Nashville train, Ten thousand miles away from home, Riding* an old freight train.
or Ten thousand miles away from home My heart was filled with pain.
Standing on the platform, Smoking a cheap cigar, A-listening for the next freight train To catch an empty car,
My pocketbook was empty,
My heart was full of pain,
Ten thousand miles away from home,
A-bumming the railroad train.
•As sung by a seventy-one-year-old ex-jailbird, a one-legged, "retired" Negro in New Orleans, t Kentucky mountain version. From H. H. Fuson's Songs of the Kentucky Highlands.
And I was cold and hungry, And had not a bite to eat j I laid me down to take a nap And rest my weary feet.
Then I walked up to a kind miss, And asked for a bite to eat, A little piece of cornbread And a little piece of meat.
She threw her arms around me: "I love you as a friend, But if I gave you this to eat You'd bum 'round here again."
"Kind miss, kind miss, Don't talk to me so rough, You think that I'm a old hobo, Because I look so tough*"
She took me in her kitchen, She treated me nice and kindj She got me in the notion Of bumming all the time.
And as I left the kitchen And went down to the town, I heard a double-header blow, And thought she was western bound*
I walked down on the sidetrack And stopped at the railroad shopj And heard an agent tell a man The train it would not stop.
My heart began to flutter
And I began to sing,
"Ten thousand miles away from home,
A-bummin' a railroad train."
I pulled my cap down over my eyes And walked on down the tracks} Then I caught a sleeping-car, And never did look back.
I got off at Danville,
Got struck on a Danville girl;
You bet your life she was out of sight,
She wore those Danville curls.
She wore her hat on the back of her head, Like high-tone people do. And the very next train comes down this line, I'll bid that girl adieu.
THE WRECK ON THE C. & O.
OR
THE DEATH OF JACK HINTON*
"The ballad and the facts agree as follows: (1) The F.F.V., train No. 4, running east on the C. & O. Railroad, was wrecked near Hinton (Virginia) by a landslide. (2) The regular engineer, George Alley, was killed. (3) The fireman saved his life by jumping from the engine." *
*From Professor J. H. Cox's Folk-Songs of the South (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 192S).
Running into Sewell yard, was quartered on the line, A-waiting for strict orders and in the cab to ride.
Chorus:.
Many a man has been murdered by the railroad, railroad, railroad, Many a man has been murdered by the railroad, And laid in his lonesome grave.
And when she blew for Hinton, her engineer was there, George Alley was his name, with bright and wavery hair} His fireman, Jack Dixon, was standing by his side, A-waiting for strict orders and in the cab to ride.
George Alley's mother came to him with a basket on her arm, She handed him a letter, saying: "Be careful how you run; And if you run your engine right, you'll get there just on time, For many a man has lost his life in trying to make lost time."
George Alley said: "Dear mother, your letter I'll take heed. I know my engine is all right and I know that she will speed; So o'er this road I mean to run with speed unknown to all, And when I blow for Clifton Forge, they'll surely hear my call."
George Alley said to his fireman, "Jack, a little extra steam;
I intend to run old No. 4 the fastest ever seen;
So o'er this road I mean to fly like angel's wings unfold,
And when I blow for the Big Bend Tunnel, they'll surely hear my call."
George Alley said to his fireman, "Jack, a rock ahead I see, And I know that death is lurking there for to grab both you and me; So from this cab, dear Jack, you leap, your darling life to save, For I want you to be an engineer while I'm sleeping in my grave."
"Oh, no, dear George! that will not do, I want to die with you." "Oh, no, no, dear Jackj that will not be, I'll die for you and me." So from the cab dear Jack did leap, oP New River was running high, And he kissed the hand of his darling George as No. 4 flew by.
So up the road she dashed j against the rock she crashed} The engine turning over and the coaches they came last j George Alley's head in the firebox lay, while the burning flames
rolled o'er: "I'm glad I was born an engineer, to die on the C & O. Road"
George Alley's mother came to him and in sorrow she did sigh, When she looked upon her darling boy and saw that he must die. "Too late, too late, dear mother! my doom is almost o'er, And I know that God will let me in when I reach that golden shore,"
The doctor said, "Dear George, O darling boy, keep still j Your life may yet be spared, if it be God's precious wilL" "Oh, no, dear Doc, that cannot be, I want to die so free, I want to die on the engine I love, 143."
The people came from miles around this engineer to see.
George Alley said, "God bless you, friends, I am sure you will find
me here." His face and head all covered with blood, his eyes you could not see, And as he died he cried aloud, "Oh, nearer, my God, to thee."
NACHUL-BORN EASMAN *
According to Henry Trevelyan, section gang foreman for the Wier Lumber Company of Wiergate, Texas, this is the original "Casey Jones," that he heard when he went to work on the Illinois Central line that runs through Canton, Mississippi*
* An "easman" is a "hustler," that is, a man who wanders from town to town living off women, often other men's wives.
"Name printed on de tail of his shirt, Nachul-born easman, don* have to work."
Casey Jones, befo' he died, Fixed de blinds so de bums couldn' ride} "Ef dey ride, gotta ride de rods, Trus' dey life in de han's of God."
Chorus:
Oh, my honey, who tol' you so? Nachul-born easman, ev'ywhere I go.
Casey Jones was a li'l' behind He thought prob'ly he could make de time, Got up in his engine, an' he walked about, Gave three loud whistles an'-a he pulled out.
Right-hand side dey was a-wavin' of flags, Wavin' of flags to save Casey's life, Casey blowed de whistle an' he never look back, Never stopped a-runnin' till he jumped de track,
American Ballads and Folk Songs
Oh, my baby, till he jumped de track,
Never stopped a-runnin' till he jumped de track.
On de right-hand side was a tuzzle switch, On de left-hand side was a ten-foot ditch, Fireman looked out, got ready to jump, Two locomotives here, bound to bump.
Number 3 got within a mile of the place, Number 4 stared him straight in de face, Casey tol' his fireman to keep his seat and ride, "It's a double-track * road, we're runnin' side by side."
When Casey's wife heard dat Casey was dead, She was in de kitchen, makin' up bread, She says, "Go to bed, chilluns, an' hoi' yo' breath, You'll all get a pension at yo' daddy's death."
Casey called up his wife and son,
Willed them an engine, had never been run.
When Casey's son did come of age,
Says, "Daddy's done willed me a narrow gauge."
CASEY JONES
In 1910 0. L. Miller, mayor of Canton, Mississippi, wrote to the senior editor of this collection as follows: "Wallis Sanders is the composer of the popular song 'Casey Jones*' Casey was running between Memphis and Canton when he was killed fourteen miles north of Canton. He was a great favorite with the roundhouse men as well as all who came in contact with him. The darkey, Wallis Sanders, made the song in his own way . . . will get to singing this song
♦According to Trevelyan, Casey was drunk at the time of his famous wreck and so saw a double track where there was only a single line.
now and add words that suit Casey's railroad life just as well as the original does. I read your letter to Wallis and he said, 'Boss, is there anything in it?' I told him no money but lots of fame, and he said, 'What dat, Boss?' ... I was for forty years foreman of the railroad shops here."
Twenty-three years later we went to Canton to find Wallis Sanders. He was dead. Mayor Miller was dead. But his married daughter took us to see an old Negro whom she had known in the roundhouse ever since she was a little girl—Wallis Sanders' close friend, Cornelius Steen.
Cornelius Steen, seventy years old, retired after nearly forty years of coal-heaving in the old roundhouse at Canton, told us this story about the origin of "Casey Jones." While visiting in Kansas City many years ago, he had heard the song "Jimmie Jones" (of which the only verse he could remember is quoted below) sung by a strolling street guitarist. He brought the tune and some of the verses back with him to Canton and to the roundhouse where he worked. "Wash" Sanders, who also worked as a coal heaver, heard the song, liked it, and made it his own by adding verses that described the wreck in which poor old Jimmie Jones was killed. When sufficiently in his cups, he could sing on for a long time and never repeat a stanza. Some time after, Casey Jones, who had a regular run as an engineer between Memphis and Canton, and whom Steen said he knew well and saw often, was killed in the now famous wreck. Sanders then changed the words "Jimmie Jones" to "Casey Jones." Later it was picked up by some traveling vaudevillians and revamped to make the popularly known song, "Casey Jones."
The following is the only verse of "Jimmie Jones" that Cornelius Steen could remember:
On a Sunday mornin' it begins to rain, 'Round de curve spied a passenger train, . On the pilot lay po' Jimmie Jones,
He's a good ol' porter, but he's dead an' gone,
Dead an' gone, dead an' gone,
Kase he's been on de cholly * so long.
And here are the verses that the old man could remember long dead Wallis Sanders singing:
On a Sunday mornin' it begins to rain,
'Round the curve spied a passenger train,
Under de cab lay po' Casey Jones,
He's a good engineer, but he's dead an' gone,
Dead an' gone, dead an' gone,
Kase he's been on de cholly so long.
* "On de cholly" is equivalent to "out on the hog," or "on the bum."
Casey Jones was a good engineer,
ToP his fireman not to have no fear,
All I want's a lil water an' coal,
Peep out de cab an' see de drivers roll,
Oh, see de drivers roll, see de drivers roll,
Peep out de cab an' see de drivers roll.
On a Sunday mornin' it begins to rain,
'Round de curve come a passenger train,
ToP his fireman he'd better jump,
Kase dose two locomotives is boun' to bump,
Boun' to bump, boun' to bump,
Kase dose two locomotives is boun' to bump.
But although "Casey Jones" may have originated as Cornelius Steen says that it did, it had its roots in an old ballad tradition—
"There's many a man killed on the railroad, And laid in his lonesome grave."
The following scraps, whether they were fathered by "Casey Jones" or whether "Casey Jones" is only one among many similar ballads, attest to the vigorousness of this tradition.
THE WRECK OF THE SIX-WHEEL DRIVER*
Joseph Mickel was a good engineer, Told his fireman, well, oh, not to fear. All he wanted was to keep her good and hot. Says, "We'll make Paris 'bout four o'clock." Says, "We'll make Paris 'bout four o'clock."
* Contributed by H. M. Harris, who learned it in 1906 from a Negro working in the cotton fiel
When we got within a mile of the place, Number One stared us all in the face. The conductor pulled out his watch And he mumbled and said, "We may make it, but we'll all be dead. All be dead, oh, we'll all be dead, We may make it but we'll all be dead, For I've been on the Charley so long,"
As the two locomotives was about to bump,
The fireman prepared for to make his jump.
The engineer blowed the whistle
And the fireman bawled,
"Please, Mr. Conductor, won't you save us all,
Save us all, oh, save us all,
Please, Mr, Conductor, won't you save us all?
For I've been on the Charley so long."
Oh, you ought to been there for to have seen the sight,
Screaming and yelling, both colored and white.
Some were crippled, and some were lame;
But the six-wheel driver had to bear the blame.
Ain't it a pity, oh, ain't it a shame
That the six-wheel driver had to bear the blame?
For I've been on the Charley so long.
OL> JOHN BROWN
Passenger train stood in the shed, Twas a drizzling rain, and clouds o'erhead, Up on the engine was ol' John Brown, He was a good ol' frien', but he done broke downu
Little more steam an5 a little more coal,
Put your head out the window and see the drivers roll,
OP John Brown, his back's most broke,
But he must shovel coal to make the engine smoke.
CHARLEY SNYDER
A ballad sung by the Negroes along the Ohio River.
Charley Snyder was a good engineer,
He told his firemen he had nothing to fear,
All he needed was water and coal,
Put your head out the window, see the drivers roll,
See the drivers roll,
See the drivers roll, Put your head out the window, see the drivers roll.
On Sunday morning it began to rain,
When around the bend came a passenger train,
Oin the bumpers was-a hobo John,
He's a good old hobo, but he's dead and gone,
He's dead and gone,
He's dead and gone, He's a good old hobo, but he's dead and gone.
Jay Gould's daughter said before she died, "Father, fix the 'blinds' so the bums can't ride, If ride they must, let them ride the rod, Let them put their trust in the hands of God,
In the hands of God,
In the hands of God, Let them put their trust in the hands of God."
Jay Gould's daughter said before she died,
"There's just one more road o'er which I'd like to ride,"
"Tell me, daughter, what can it be?"
"It's in southern California on the Santa Fe,
On the Santa Fe,
On the Santa Fe. It's in southern California on the Santa Fe,"
Hurry up, engine, and hurry up, train, Missie gwine to ride over the road again, Swift £S lightning and smooth as glass, Darkey, take your hat oflF when the train goes past,
When the train goes past,
When the train goes past, Darkey, take your hat oflF when the train goes past.