III. 4. RAILROADERS AND HOBOS
[Several of these songs have become bluegrass standards]
CONTENTS: III. 4. Railroaders and Hobos
The Wreck on the Somerset Road........ 254
The White House Blues.......... 256
John Henry............ 258
Sis Joe........ 262
Oh, Roll On, Babe........... 264
As I Went Out for a Ramble...... 267
Way Out in Idaho........ 269
III. 4. RAILROADERS AND HOBOS
I don't like no railroad man,
Railroad man will kill you if he can,
I don't like no railroad man.
I don't like no railroad fool,
Railroad fool's got a head like a mule,
I don't like no railroad fool.
THE WRECK ON THE SOMERSET ROAD
No. 1532. Justis Begley, Hazard, Ky., 1937. Compare with "The Wreck of the Old '97."
Soon one mornin', was mistin' rain,
Round the curve come a passenger train.
Just as he struck Reno Hill,
Slowed his whistle an awful squill,
Womens and chilluns come screamin' an' cryin',
Big Joe Carmichael comin' down the line.
The two smart song writers who picked up "Casey Jones" from Mississippi Negroes and smoothed it up for vaudeville got all the credit and the money, too; but the folk song that made the headlines was "The Wreck on the Old '97." Vernon Dalhart put it on Victor records, and they sold a million copies in the late nineteen-twenties. By 1933 a suit against Victor was filed by one David G. George of Atlanta, Georgia, who insisted that he had composed the song in 1903 immediately after the wreck occurred. Robert Gordon gathered evidence to show that the song was made up not by David George, but by several men, yet the court upheld the plaintiff. The case is still being appealed.
It was never claimed, of course, that the tune was original, for "The Wreck of the Old '97" was sung to the doleful old air, "The Ship That Never Returned." That this tune had been similarly used before and for more or less the same purpose is indicated in the following ballad, possibly an older song and the foster parent of the "Old '97," which hints darkly of dark doings on the "old, old Somerset Road."
1. On a dark stormy mornin' when the snow was a-fallin',
Through the smoke from the old, straight stack,
The train pulled out for old St. Louis
With her crew that will never come back.
Chorus: Sad farewell when we heard the signal
And the brakeman dropped that pin.
And for hours and hours, well, that brakeman waited
For a train that will never pull in.
2 "Just one more trip," said the sleepy brakeman
As he tumbled out of his bed,
"For tomorrow night the panthers are coming
For to paint old Somerset red."
3 "Just one more trip," said the sleepy conductor
As he kissed his lovin' wife,
"For we'e stole enough of money from the railroad company
To last us all through life."
4 Well, five young men had broken the railing
And robbed them of their load,
'Twas the worst old wreck that we ever did see
On the old, old Somerset Road.
5 We will settle down in some lonely forest
And live there all alone,
But the last man found was the dead conductor
On the old, old Somerset Road.
Alternate Chorus: Was a sad farewell when we heard the signal
As the brakeman dropped the pin,
He come out and give us the signal
As he backed the old train in.
THE WHITE HOUSE BLUES
No. 1523. Ace. on guitar and sung by Maynard Britton, Clay County, Ky., 1937. For a variant, see "Cannonball Blues," by the Carter Family, Perfect No. 7055.
When McKinley was dead and Roosevelt in the White House drinking from the silver cup, the people thought the matter over slowly and made up a song to mourn McKinley's death. When the song was done, it did not speak of the crowds at his bier, the flags at half-mast or of thunderous salutes to symbolize their sorrow, but, instead, put the Cannonball Express on the road from Buffalo to Washington, tearing down through Maine, screaming out the sad news to America with its shrill whistle, snorting its sympathy in its steam valves.
1. Roosevelt's in the White House, doing the best,
McKinley in the graveyard, taking his rest,
He's gone a long old time.
2 "Look a-here, little children, now don't you fret,
You'll draw a pension at your papa's death."
From Buffalo to Washington.
3 He said, "There's one thing that's grieved my mind,
That is to die and leave my poor wife behind.
I'm gone a long old time."
4 "Look a-here, you rascal, and see what you've done,
You've shot my husband and I've got no gun."
From Buffalo to Washington.
5 He jumped on his horse, and he tore down through Maine,
Says to that horse, "You've got to outrun that train,
From Buffalo to Washington."
6 Standing at the station, lookin' at the time,
Number Five runnin' by at half past nine,
From Buffalo to Washington.
7 Yonder comes the train running down the line,
Blowing at every station, McKinley is dying,
Hard times, hard times.
8 Roosevelt's in the White House, drinkin' out of a silver cup,
McKinley's in the graveyard, never waked up,.
He's gone a long old time.
JOHN HENRY
No. 2668. Arthur Bell, Cummins State Farm, Pine Bluff, Ark., 1939. See Guy B. Johnson, John Henry; Louis W. Chappell, John Henry,
Any general collection of American folk songs that does not include the ballad of John Henry, the Negro steel-drivin' man, would not seem to us in any wise complete. This almost epic ballad of the industrial revolution with its lights and shadows from the tunnel workings of the West Virginia hills, its burly and laughing defiance of the earth and the machine and of death, is probably America's greatest single piece of folk lore. Although, therefore, the earlier volume of American Ballads and Folk Songs contains a long composite version, we print here nine stanzas and a tune recorded near Pine Bluff, Arkansas. It is a western version in which John Henry is pictured as the Louisiana section-gang worker. We have found no exact parallel to this stirring air among the thirty or forty versions in the Library of Congress Folk Song Archive.
* * *
aI can tell you all about double-jinted people. You couldn't let them be prize fighters because any double-jinted man could knock you out. A double-jinted man, he's got two jints to your one, he's always fat and stout and everything, and he can just tear you up just like that, you understand.
"I knowed old man Eph Brown, which my father showed him to me when I was a little small boy. We was down in the gin house where they was ginning cotton into bales that weighed 550 and 575 pound. Well, it take four or five men to put a bale on a wagon, but old man Eph Brown just go there and, 'cause he was double-jinted, just picks up the bale of cotton, chunk it in the wagon, git in the wagon and go ahead on home.
"Nowadays mighty few men you find 'll be double-jinted. Once I was a boy, I was about sixteen years old and we was carryiny corn to the mill down South. Pd always been a good knocker. I could knock with my fists, and I run up on a boy, he was double-jinted. Boys round in them times, you know, was always round talking ybout one another's knocking, and all the boys told him, 'You know old Lead Belly is a good knocker.' I could run and knock. I always tried to be the winner. We wouldn't hit the side of the heady we would always hit on the breast and in the short ribs and along the arms. I used to jive 'em by hittin' 'em in the grind, slap 'em with the back of my hand that way, causin' 'em to bow. Then I'd meet 'em with a blow in the breast when they'd bow.
"I went up to this fellow, and he looked awful funny, he was bracin' for a knock. He said, 'Look here, Lead Belly, don't you want to knock?" said, "No, I'm out here grindin' corn today; I don't want to knock.' He says, 'Oh, yes, you gotta knock me.' I says, 'Oh, no, I ain't gonna knock.'
"I kept lookin' at him and he looked so fat and his arms so big, I says, 'What is you anyhow? You double-jinted?' He say, 'Yeah.' I say, 'Christ, man, you think I'm goin' knock you? I'm single- jinted; I don't knock with no double-jinted man.' If he want to knock with me, Pm gonna knock with a piece of stovewood or something; I ain't gonna knock with no double-jinted man."
"John Henry was a double-jinted man too. When he was a little boy, he weighed twenty pounds, a newborn baby, and his limbs was just as fat and stout—I had a picture of him; I know. I kept that picture a long time; I believe it's down at the house now. He was layin' up there so fat and stout. Even when he was a little baby he wanted to be a railroad man. He was a steel driver, the best there ever was in the world. He was double-jinted and he was a man with it. Always don't forget about John Henry that he was a double-jinted man, had two jints to your one.
"Had a little wife named sweet Polly Ann, and John Henry got low sick and he had malaria fever. And he was in the bed, doctor comin', an' before Polly Ann would let the steel driving go she went out and drove steel just like John Henry did. So every day she went out and drove steel till John Henry got better so he could go back on the job." —Lead Belly
1. John Henry's mother had a little baby,
She was holding him in her hand,
If she be lucky and raise this child,
She'll have another steel-driving man.
2. John Henry's mother told him,
Says, "Son, you're doing awful fine,
You go ahead 'long, do the best you can,
That's the way yo' daddy died."
3 John Henry was a little boy,
And he was on his way to school,
Looked at the teacher and these words he said,
"l want to learn how to hammer, too."
1. Well, every Monday mornin'
When the bluebirds begin to sing.
You can hear those hammers a mile or mo',
You can hear John Henry's hammer ring, oh, Lawdy,
Hear John Henry's hammer ring.
2 John Henry told his old lady,
"Will you fix my supper soon?
Got ninety miles o' track I've got to line,
Got to line it by the light of the moon, oh, Lawdy,
Line it by the light o' the moon."
3 John Henry had a little baby,
He could hold him out in his hand;
But the last word I heard that po' child say,
"My dad is a steel-drivin' man, oh, Lawdy,
Daddy is a steel-drivin' man."
4. John Henry told his old capt'in,
Said, "A man ain't nothin' but a man,
Before I let yo' steel gang down
I will die with the hammer in my hand, oh, Lawdy,
Die with the hammer in my hand."
5 John Henry told his capt'in,
"Next time you go to town
A-jes' bring me back a ten-pound maul
Fer to beat yo' steel-drivin' down, oh, Lawdy,
Beat yo' steel-drivin' down."
6 John Henry had a old lady,
An' her name was Polly Ann.
John Henry tuck sick an' he had to go to bed;
Pauline drove steel like a man, oh, Lawdy,
P'line drove steel like a man.
7 John Henry had a old lady,
An' the dress she wo' was red;
Well, she started up the track an' she never looked back,
"Gwine where my man fell dead, oh, Lawdy,
Where my man fell dead."
8 Well, they taken John Henry to Wash'n'ton,
An' they bury him in the san',
There's people from the East an' there's people from the West
Come to see such a steel-drivin' man, oh, Lawdy,
See such a steel-drivin' man.
9 Well, some say he's fum England,
Well, an' some say he's fum Spain,
But I say he's nothin' but a Lou's'ana man,
Jes' the leader of a steel-drivin' gang, oh? Lawdy,
Leader of a steel-drivin' gang.
SIS JOE
No. 2654. Henry Truvillion, Newton, Texas, 1939. See Od.2, p. 262; L0.2, pp. 14-175 Whi, p. 2635 also Hu, pp. 316 fL
Track Lining Holler
"When steel gets tight with the sun shinin' right warm on it, the track buck and it looks just something like an old slavery-time fence rowy in and out. Welly this day the sun was shining the track was buckin' and I was walkin' an' talking The passenger train's due now, and I got to git out down there and line that track up straight. It's just like a knittiny needle before the fassenger train gets there. I holler and call six of my best men by name. Chances are I'll call Hank Stevens, Sonny Watkiny Sam Justis, Jim Williamsy to get their linin' bars and go down there. I have to tell 'em where to get it! Foreman Go get the third johnny head and touch it north, So the track runnin' east and west, Touch it north! Singing Leader All right now, boys, Let me tell you 'bout Sis Joe this time.
Leader and Gang Sis Joe, on the M. & O.,*
Track heavy, but she will go.
Take a mule, take a /a^,
Take a 'im, bar for to line this track.
On the mud line, on the sand,
On the wz^/ line, get a m^w.
Jack the Rabbit, on the M. & O.,
Track heavy, but she will go.
Foreman Run on down yonder to the third johnny head and touch it easy,
Quick, make haste, I hear the train comin'
Singing Leader All right now, boys,
Let me tell you what I had for breakfast now.
Leader and Gang Little rice, little bean.
No meat to be seen.
Hard work ain' easy,
Dry bread ain' greasy.
Oh, Joe, Joe Lily Butt,
Oh, Joe, caincha pick it up?
Foreman
Now, wait a minute, you stop right there,
Now, put your guns on your shoulders.
And come walkin' back.
Go on to the next one and touch it just a fraction,
To the next one now and just barely move it.
I want you to just barely touch it,
Touch it just a little bit,
Just something another like a fraction.
Singing Leader
All right now, boys,
Let me tell you 'bout tampin' ties this time.
[The men heave on their lining- bars on the beats indicated by the italicized words.]
Leader and Gang
Have to tamp 'em up solid, Have to tamp 'em kinda slow.
Jack the Rabbity Jack the Bear,
Caincha move it, just a hair,
Sis Joe, don't you hear me now?
Sis Joe, don't you hear me now?
Foreman
Now, you'll have to put your guns on your shoulders an' come by me,
An' come in a hurry,
Come trottin',
Come laughin',
Come like you gonna get paid for it,
Get a move on you,
An' go by the water tank and get you some water.
Git your linin' bars an' git your backbreakin' holts,
Throw it north.
Leader and Gang
Yea------
In the mornin* when you rise, Pick and shevil by your side.
In the mornir? when you rise, Got a fain in your side.
Foreman Now, boys, put yo' guns on yo' shoulders an' get back in the shade.
OH, ROLL ON, BABE
<*. No. 1589. Ace. on banjo and sung- by Jametf Mullins, Florress, Ky., 1937. See Od.2, pp. 102 ff.j Sh, 2:42; Lo.2, p. 20; PTFLSy No. 5, p. 168.
In eastern Kentucky, this song is said to have been made up when the L. & N. Railroad was pushed through the mountains, and local opinion is divided as to whether the "composin"' was done by whites, Negroes, or both. Mention of John Henry in many versions and its close textual and melodic connection with other Negro work songs, however, indicates its
origin is probably Negro, although it has now become a standard part of the repertory of Southern banjo pickers and is sung, so far as we know, exclusively by them.
The following stanzas that occur in other versions indicate its work-song origin more clearly than does the banjo version printed here in full.
/ looked at the sun and the sun looked red,
I looked at my partner and he was almost dead.
This old hammer killed John Henry,
But it can*t kill me. buddy* it canyt kill me*
Chorus:
Oh, roll on, babe, don't roll so slow,
When the sun goes down, you'll roll no more.
1 I dremp last night poor Lulu were dead And her apern strings tied around my head.
Oh, roll on, babe, and make your time,
My wheel's broke down, and I can't make mine,
2 I asked that girl to be my bride; She said she would before she died.
Oh, roll on, babe, and do your best, When the sun goes down, sit down and rest.
3 I looked at the east, and I looked at the west, I looked at the girl that I love best.
Oh, roll on, babe, don't roll so slow,
When the sun goes down, you'll roll no more.
4 I ain't got no money, but I will have some A-Saturday night when the pay train comes.
Oh, roll on, babe, don't roll so slow,
When the pay train comes, you will roll no more.
5 I love nobody, nobody loves me,
I'm a-lonely and single, spend my money free.
Oh, roll on, babe, and make your time, For I am sick, and I can't make mine.
6 I looked at the train as she blew by,
I thought of home, set down and cried.
Oh, roll on, babe, don't roll so slow,
When the sun goes down, you'll roll no more.
7 I looked at the sun and the sun looked high, I looked at my love and she looked shy.
Oh, roll on, babe, and do your best, When the sun goes down, sit down and rest.
8 That same old train that runs the track, That same old train will bring me back.
Oh, roll on, babe, don't roll so slow,
When the sun goes down, you'll roll no more.
* * *
I met a man the other day I never met before.
Me asked me if I wanted a job a-shoveling iron ore.
I asked him what the wages were*
He said, "Ten cents a ton"
I said, "Old fellowy go chase yourself,
I'd rather be a bum"
Works awhile and makes a fay day,
Rides de cushion or de beam;
BoySy de itchin' done got me,
Rome ainh nothin' but a dream.
AS I WENT OUT FOR A RAMBLE
No. 1542. Hazel Hudson, Hazard, Ky., 1937.
1. As I went out for a ramble,
It's I stopped in a little town.
It's I fell in love with a pretty little girl
And her eyes they were dark brown.
2 This girl I love so dearly,
It's I loved her more than life,
But she was nothing but a young flirt
So she never could be my wife.
3 It's as I was walking one evening,
It's I walked around the park,
It's I found her in the arms of another boy,
God knows it broke my heart.
4 I went to her and asked her
As plain as words could be,
"Have you fell in love with another boy
And turned your back on me?"
5 She threw her arms around me
And in these words she said,
"I love you, dear, with all of my heart,
God knows, I'd rather be dead.
6 "But your parents, they're against me;
They talk of me all the time,
And you are nothing but a hobo,
God knows you'll never be mine."
7 It's I turned away and left her,
It's I went on down the track;
And every step that I would take,
She seemed to say, "Come back."
8 Next morning I caught a freight train,
It's I went way down the line,
It's I said, "I'll go and ask her
If she'll try me one more time."
9 Now, boys, all take warning
From a friend that's tried and true.
Don't fall in love with such a young girl,
Her love will prove untrue.
10. God knows I've been a rambler,
It's I rambled all around;
But if she ever proves true to me
I'll marry and settle down.
WAY OUT IN IDAHO
No. 1634. Blaine Stubblefield, Washington, D.C., 193S.
It is fitting that the man who made this song and the man who composed "Sam Bass" should have used the same tune. For another similar ballad, see "The State of Arkansas," Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads, pp. 283-285 (1938 revised and enlarged edition).
1 Come all you jolly railroad men, and I'll sing you if I can
Of the trials and tribulations of a godless railroad man
Who started out from Denver his fortune to make grow,
And struck the Oregon Short Line way out in Idaho.
Chorus: Way out in Idaho, way out in Idaho,
A-workinJ on the narrow-gauge, way out in Idaho.
2 I was roaming around in Denver one luckless rainy day
When Kilpatrick's man, Catcher, stepped up to me and did say,
"I'll lay you down five dollars as quickly as I can
And you'll hurry up and catch the train, she's starting for Cheyenne."
3 He laid me down five dollars, like many another man.
And I started for the depot as happy as a clam;
When I got to Pocatello, my troubles began to grow,
A-wading through the sagebrush in frost and rain and snow.
4 When I got to American Falls, it was there I met Fat Jack,
He said he kept a hotel in a dirty canvas shack.
"We hear you are a stranger and perhaps your funds are low,
Well, yonder stands my hotel tent, the best in Idaho."
5 I followed my conductor into his hotel tent,
And for one square and hearty meal I paid him my last cent;
But Jack's a jolly fellow, and you'll always find him so,
A-workin' on the narrow-gauge way out in Idaho.
6 They put me to work next morning with a cranky cuss called Bill,
And they gave me a ten-pound hammer to strike upon a drill;
They said if I didn't like it I could take my shirt and go,
And they'd keep my blanket for my board way out in Idaho.
7 It filled my heart with pity as I walked along the track
To see so many old bummers with their turkeys on their backs;
They said the work was heavy and the grub they couldn't go,
Around Kilpatrick's tables way out in Idaho.
8 But now I'm well and happy, down in the harvest camps,
And there I will continue till I make a few more stamps;
I'll go down to New Mexico and I'll marry the girl I know,
And I'll buy me a horse and buggy and go back to Idaho.