II. The Levee Camp

II. The Levee Camp 45-52

Shack Bully Holler - 45
Reason I Stay on Job So Long - 46
Gwineter Harness in de Mornin' Soon - 47
Levee Camp "Holler" - 49
Shot My Pistol in de Heart of Town -52
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SHACK BULLY HOLLER
"Early in de mornin', Charley Diamonds levee camp, long about three, four clock, you can hear Mr. Isum Lorantz (killed mo' men up an' down de Mississippi dan de influenzy) knockin' on de ding-dong wid his nigger punchin' 44. Nigger by de name o' L. W. Simmons hollers way down end o' de quarters."—Henry Trevelyan, former levee worker, Wiergate, lower Texas.  
   
   
Who dat knockin' on de fo'-day dong?
Mus' be Isum Lorantz, 'cause he don' knock long.

Den Mr. Isum Lorantz spoke up his own se'f, says,

"Raise up, boys, raise up, raise up—

Breakfas' on de table, coffee's gettin' col',
Ef you don' come now, goin' throw it outdo's.
CHORUS: Aincha gwine, aincha gwine, boys, aincha gwine?

Den ol' shack bully Simmons 'gin to holler same way.
 
Ol' nigger Shakleton in bed yit,
Here I am smokin' my third cigaritt.
CHORUS: Aincha gwine, aincha gwine, boys, aincha gwine?

(Spoken:) Come an' see what you got on yo' breakfas' table:
Ram, ham, chicken, an' mutton;
Ef you don' come now, you won' git nuttin'.

Here come a toad frog, got grea' big eyes.
Good God-a'mighty, dese niggers won' rise.
This ain' no place to collar no nod,
White folks wants you on de lumber yard.

White man call you, you come all right!
Nigger man call you, you want to fight.
Little bell call you, big bell warn you.
Ef you don' come now, I'm gonna break in on you.
Aincha gwine, aincha gwine, boys, aincha gwine?

REASON I STAY ON JOB SO LONG

Reason I stay on job so long,
Lawd, dey gimme flamdonies
An' coffee strong.

Reason I love my captain so,
'Cause I ast him for a dollar,
Lawd, he give me fo'.

Reason why I love Boleen,
She keeps my house
An' shanty clean.

Why I like Roberta so,
She rolls her jelly
Like she rolls her dough.

GWINETER HARNESS IN DE MORNIN' SOON
A levee camp song, sung by Dink, a "colored lady" from the banks of the Mississippi River,

Baby, baby, you don't know
De way you treat me I bound to go.

Chorus: Gwineter harness in de morning soon, soon,
Gwineter harness in de morning soon.

Skinner, skinner, you know yo' rules,
Den go to de stable an' curry yo' mule.

Captain, captain, what time o' day?—
Billy done holler for his oats and hay.

Billy wuz fat and Queen wuz lean,
But I swear, by God, was a wheelin' team.

Look here, Capt'n, whut Billy done done,
He done sot down on de wagon tongue.

Went to de towel to wipe my face,
Couldn't see nothin' but trimmin' an' lace.

Well, I hear mighty rumblin' up in de sky,
Mus' be my Lord go passin' by.

Hollered at ol' Beck and she wouldn't gee,
Hit her on the head wid de singletree.

Went uptown, goin' to buy me a rope,
Goin' to whip Miss Sally till she "buzzard lope."

Well, capt'n, capt'n, you mus' be Win'
Look at yo' watch! See, ain't it quittin' time?

Every time de dang-dong ring,*
Ise got him by de head an' Ise gone ag'in.

Ringin' de dong don't worry me,
Ef I don't want t' work, God knows Ise free!  

[*Dang-dong, or dong, is the bell that calls to work.]

LEVEE CAMP "HOLLER"
This song is the workday of a Negro behind a team of mules. Wherever the scrapers pile up dirt on the levees of the Southern rivers this song rises from the dust and heat. It voices the day-long reflections, the recurrent experiences and conflicts of the Negro mule-skinner. We have never heard a stanza that made any mention of re­ligious matters, for it is a devil's song and good church members do not dare be heard singing it. Black Samson, whom we found breaking rocks in the Nashville State Penitentiary, admitted that he knew the song and had once sung itj but, since he had joined the church and had turned away from the world, he no longer dared to sing it. All our arguments were in vain. The prison chaplain protested that he would make it all right with the Lord. But Black Samson replied that he was a Hard-shell Baptist and that, according to their way of thinking, he would be in danger of hell-fire if he sang such a song. At last, how­ever, when the warden had especially urged him to sing, he stepped in front of our microphone and, much to our surprise, when he had made sure that his words were being recorded, said: "It's sho hard lines dat a poor nigger's got to sing a worl'ly song, when he's tryin' to be sancrified; but de warden's ast me, so I guess I'll have to." And he did. But he had registered his protest before the Lord on an aluminum plate, now filed in the Library of Congress at Washington.

The air was recorded from the singing of a prisoner at Angola, Louisiana. The words come from levee camps in the far South.
 
We git up in de mornin' so dog-gone soon,
Cain' see nothin' but de stars an' moon.
Um—m, cain' see nothin' but de stars an' moon.

I looked all over de whole corral,
An' I couldn't fin' a mule wid his shoulder well.
Um—m, etc.

Runnin' all aroun' de whole corral,
Lawdy-Lawdy-Lawd, Tryin' to git de harness on Queen an' Sal.

Way down on de river an' I couldn' see,
Couldn' hear nothin', Lawdy-Lawd, but "Whoa-haw-gee."

"Cap'n, cap'n, ol' Nell is sick."
"God damn ol' Nell, put de harness on Dick."

My name is Ron, I wuks in de san', oh, my Lawd,
I'd ruther be a nigger dan a po'-white man.

Cap'n, cap'n, what's de matter wid you?
Ef you got any Battle-Ax, please, suh, give me a chew.

Oh, Lawd, dat been my woman cry, eh Lawd,
Go way, Eadie, quit worryin' my min'.

Lawd, a brown-skin woman wear my watch an' chain,
But a jet-black woman, um-m Lawd, cain' call my name.

Lawd, a brown-skin woman get anything I got,
But a jet-black woman cain' come in my back yard.

Heered a mighty rumblin' down 'bout de water trough,
Mus' been de skinner whoppin' hell out de walkin' boss.

Cap'n got a 44 an' he try to play bad,
Take it dis mornin' ef he make me mad.

Cap'n, cap'n, will you sen' me some water?
Ain' had none since dis long mornin'.

Lawd, de cap'n call me an' I answered, "Suh."
"Ef you ain' gonna work, what you come here full?"

This time, this time another year,
I may be rollin', but it won' be here.

Cap'n, cap'n, doncha think it's mighty hard?
Work me all day on 'lasses an' lard, oh, Lawd.

I ask de cap'n what time o' day,
He look at me, an' he walk away.

I'd ruther be a nigger an' plow ol' Beck,
Dan a white hill-billy wid a long red neck.

I got a clock in my stomach an' a watch in my head,
I'm a-gettin' superstitious 'bout my hog an' bread.

I look at de sun an' de sun look high,
I look down on de boss-man an' he look so sly.

"Boss man, boss man, cain' you gimme my time?"
An' de boss man say, "One day behin'."

"Boss man, boss man, cain5 you gimme one dime?"
An' de boss man say, "One dime behin'."

Ask Cap'n George did his money come,
Said, "De river too foggy, de boat won' run."

Well, if I had my weight in lime,
I'd whip my cap'n till he wen' stone blin'

He don' like whisky, but he jes' drink a can.
Oh, I'd ruther be a nigger dan a po'-white man.

You cain' do me like you did po' Shine,
Take Shine's money, but you cain' take mine.

Cap'n, cap'n, you mus' be cross,
Six clock in hell 'fo' you knock off.

SHOT MY PISTOL IN DE HEART OF TOWN

Oh, Lawd,
Shot my pistol
In de heart of town.
Lawd, de big chief hollered,
"Doncha blow me down."

"Oh, Lawd,
Which-a-way
Did de po' gal go?"
"She lef' here runnin'
Is all I know."

"Oh, Lawd,
Which-a-way
Do de Red River run?"
"Lawd, it run eas' and wes'
Like de risin' sun."

Oh, Lawd,
Jes' two cards
In de deck I love,
Lawd, de Jack o' diamonds
An' de ace o' clubs.

Oh, Lawd,
Stopped here to play
Jes' one mo' game.
Lawd, Jack o' diamonds
Petered on my han'.