IV. DANCE-SONGS OR "REELS"
DOWN through the years the old dance tunes tinkle gaily. They have a vitality to match that of the boll weevil sung of in the darky's ballad, for they survived not only time but the stern discouragement of man. They have a brave laughter that endured in spite of public disfavor and threatening thunders from the pulpit. In many sections of the South, the Negro, who by nature is aquiver with rhythm, was forbidden to give expression to his impulse in the dance; and to the collector of folk-lore it is a mournful thing that many of the old dance-songs should have been allowed to die. But many survived — as the dance persisted despite opposition.
This ban on dancing was set up, not by the white masters, but by the Negroes themselves, or by their religious leaders. The dances that the captured slaves brought over with them from Africa were heathen and obscene, and so they must be "laid aside" in the new life. They were permitted, with certain restrictions, in the sections under Latin influence, — French and Spanish, — but not elsewhere. And even the crude plantation dances were thought reprehensible in many other districts. Wherever the Negro was under strong religious influence, Methodist or Baptist, he thought dancing a sin — to be held to defiantly by the unregenerate but to be given up with fervor by the converted. Dancing was apparently an evil more terrible than most of the offences mentioned in the Decalogue, and the darky must have wondered why the Almighty was so absent-minded as to have left it out of his ten commandments. Certainly the Negro preacher was guilty of no such omission. So gay defiant youth danced on, while elders shuddered. But when the youth "got religion" and joined the church, he was expected to forego such revelry and cleanse his mind of "devil songs."
He did this so effectively that it is next to impossible to coax any dance-song from an elderly colored person. White heads wag reproachfully at me when I beg for "reels."
" Dem is devil songs, mistis, an' I doan hold with sech," an old man in Birmingham told me.
"But didn't you use to know them when you were young? Didn't you dance them?" I persisted.
"Yes, mistis, I is been a powerful sinner in mah day. But bress de Lawd, Ise got religion in time!"
"Don't you remember them?"
He fixed an eye of rebuke upon me. "Yes, mistis, I knows dem. But I ain' gwine backslide by talkin' 'bout 'em. Ef you wants 'reels' you'll have to go hunt up some o' dem young sinner folks. Not me, naw, not me!"
There was an old woman in Mississippi, almost a hundred years old, who said:
"Honey, I'se got one foot in de grabe. I'se done made mah peace wid Hebben. You ain' want me to draw back now, is you?"
In some sections, the church leaders tried to compromise with the desire to dance by encouraging "shouts," which were spirited, religious marchings or dancings in the church, to be indulged in by the irrepressible young and tolerated by the elders. This is an expression of the same spirit which substituted the song-games for dancing, among the whites, whose old play-party songs still have a lusty vitality in outlying districts.
Some of the dances were so simple that they could be danced without the aid of instruments. All that was needed was someone to "pat and sing," to mark the rhythmic time by clapping of the hands. Even the reptiles knew those measures, for doesn't the song-fragment tell us:
As I come 'long de new-cut road,
Met Mister Terrapin and Mister Toad.
De Toad begin to pat an' sing,
While Terrapin cut de pigeon-wing.
One of the best known of the simple old dances was Juba, the tune of which is so elemental that it has practically but two notes — no more. The late Dr. John A. Wyeth gave me the air to this, and the words were sent in by various contributors.
JUBA
Ju - ba dis an' Ju - ba dat, Ju - ba kill a yal - ler cat;
Ju - ba up an' Ju - ba down, Ju-ba run-ning all a-round.
Juba dis an' Juba dat, Juba kill a yaller cat;
Juba up an' Juba down, Juba running all around.
Dr. Wyeth said that this is one of the best known of the "jig," or short-step, dance tunes of the old South. It was very effective when played on the banjo, as it has a Kvely tempo. Some reporters give an ending, " Jump, Juba." Dr. Wyeth said that this is an old African melody. The primitive African music has few tones, and the dance is more in unison with the beat of the drum than the more elaborate instruments. Juba has a rat-tat and a skirl rerniniscent of the tom-toms. The Negroes said that Juba was an old African ghost.
The primitive dancing of the Negro is simple. Dr. Wyeth said: "The Negro's idea of harmony is right on the earth, deals only with the material, showing his low order of development. In dancing, his steps must go on to the ground. The Negro must pat, must make some noise on the earth to correspond, whereas an Indian in his dancing deals with an emotion away from the earth."
Dr. Wyeth gave another jig, Ole Aunt Kate, which he said was elaborated from Juba, The words to this and the two songs following are included in his book, "With Sabre and Scalpel." The tune is very like Juba, but there are more than two tones. This also expresses a primitive mood and is wholly negro in conception and expression.
Ole Aunt Kate she bake de cake,
She bake hit 'hine de garden gate;
She sift de meal, she gimme de dust,
She bake de bread, she gimme de crust,
She eat de meat, she gimme de skin,
An' dat's de way she tuck me in.
It has a little swing that is individual and yet characteristically "darky." The Negro's music goes from one harmony to another, with no discord, and is like the harmony of nature. Dr. Wyeth gave an old dance-song, Jimmy Rose, which he said a Negro on his plantation had made up. "You can just hear in it a darky jog along in a jogtrot on a mule."
JIMMY ROSE
Jimmy Rose, he went to town,
Jimmy Rose, he went to town,
Jimmy Rose, he went to town,
To 'commodate de ladies.
Fare ye well, ye ladies all,
Fare ye well, ye ladies all,
Fare ye well, ye ladies all,
God Ermighty bless you!
Dr. Wyeth performed magical tricks with a banjo, as he had been taught by old Uncle Billy in slavery times. He evoked melodies of wistful gaiety by drawing a handkerchief across the banjo strings, and lively tunes by playing it with a whisk-broom. And when he danced some of the old breakdowns for me, just to show how they went, I felt transported to an old plantation of days before the war.
Another of the dance-songs he gave me was Johnny Booker.
I went down to de back of de fiel';
A black snake cotch me by de heel.
I cut my dus', I run my bes',
I run right into a horney's nes'.
Chorus: Oh, do, Mr. Booker, do I Oh, do, Mr. Booker, dol
Oh, do, Mr. Booker, Johnny Booker,
Mr. Booker, Mr. Booker, Johnny Booker, do!
The instruments used by the Negroes in early times were crude and for the most part home-made. As one Negro musician of the South said to me recently, "It seems sad to think that the Negro, who so loved music, in the old days had no chance to learn it properly and no suitable instruments to play on." Yet he worked miracles of music with what he could construct himself. He had, first and foremost, the fiddle, — which he played for the dances at the "great house/' — which was a fiddle and never a violin. Then he had the banjo, a native contrivance dear to his heart. Thomas Jefferson in his " Notes on Virginia " (1774) says that the Negroes are naturally musical. "The instrumental proper to them is the 'banjar' which they brought hither from Africa." This instrument had four strings (instead of five as now) and the head was covered with rattlesnake skin.
Dr. Wyeth, who spent his childhood and youth on a large plantation in the South, said that the banjo was the favorite musical instrument of the Negroes as he knew them. They fashioned this crude device for themselves, out of such materials as they could find. They could make a banjo from a large gourd — that useful growth which served many purposes in old times, and still does in certain country places where it is the drinking cup. The gourd for the banjo must have a long straight neck or handle. The bowl would be cut away level with the handle, the seeds taken out, and a cover of tanned coonskin stretched tightly over it like a drumhead. The strings, of crude material, were passed over a bridge near the centre of the drumhead and attached to the keys on the neck.
An old song given me by Joseph A. Turner, of Hollins, Virginia, mentions a crude banjo. The music to this was written down for me by Ruth Hibbard, of Hollins College.
Brother Ephrum Got de Coon and Gone on
I went down to my pea-patch
To see if my ole hen had hatch.
Ole hen hatch and tellin' of her dream,
And de littie chickens pickin' on de tambourine.
Chorus: Brother Ephrum got de coon and gone on and gone on and gone on,
Brother Ephrum got de coon and gone on
And left me here behind.
I'd like to make dat gal my wife,
Gal my wife, gal my wife.
I'd be happy all my life
If I had her by me.
Chorus
Mr. W. R. Boyd, of Teague, Texas, sent me the following old song, sung at dances by the slaves on the plantation before the war:
I rock from Selma, ting tang,
I'm a Georgia ruler, ting tang,
I'se a Mobile gentleman, Susie-annah,
Loan me de gourd to drink wa-a-terl
Chorus: Den all back-shuffle and clap yo' hands;
All back-shuffle and clap yo' hands;
All back-shuffle and clap yo' hands,
Oh, Miss Susie-annah!
Come shuffle up, ladies, ting tang,
Oh, Miss Williams, ting tang,
Miss Williams is a-beatin' yo', Susie-annah;
Loan me dat gourd to drink wa-a-ter!
Chorus
This could be varied to suit the native places of the masculine dancers and singers and the names of the feminine. W. R. Boyd, Jr., now of New York, contributed another old song, the dance to which it was sung being like a Virginia reel.
IN SOME LADY'S GARDEN
In some lady's the brick house,
In some lady's garden, You walk so high you can't get out,
So fare you well, my darling.
Chorus: Oh, swing a lady ump-tum,
Swing a lady round, Swing a lady ump-tum,
Promenade around.
The stanza is its own description of the gay movement of the old dance. One can fairly see the spirited swing to and fro. Two dance-songs were given to Miss Gulledge in Charlotte, North Carolina, by Negro women who said that they had danced to them years ago. The words are rather nonsensical, but the women, Bertha Merion and Esther Mackey, said that they indicated the dance movements rather than anything else.
DANCE-SONG
di - dee - o, walk-in' on de ice, di - dee - 0!
Lead a man, di-dee-o, lead a man, di-dee-o;
Lead a man, di-dee-o, lead a man, di-dee-o.
You swing heads, di-dee-o, I swing feet, di-dee-o,
Ain't dat nice, di-dee-o, walkin' on de ice, di-dee-o
Ladies change, di-dee-o, ladies change, di-dee-o;
Ladies change, di-dee-o, ladies change, di-dee-o.
Ain't dat nice, di-dee-o, ain't dat nice, di-dee-o,
Ain't dat nice, di-dee-o, ain't dat nice, di-dee-o?
Oh, my love, di-dee-o, oh, my love, di-dee-o,
Oh, my love, di-dee-o, oh, my love, di-dee-o!
Ain't dat nice, di-dee-o, ain't dat nice, di-dee-o,
Ain't dat nice, di-dee-o, ain't dat nice, di-dee-o?
The words to the next have little coherence or logic, evidently being used merely as an excuse to bring in the directions of stealing up in the dance.
MY MAMMY STOLED A COW
Steal up, young ladies,
My mammy stoled a cow.
Steal up, my darlin' chile,
My mammy stoled a cow.
Chorus: Stoled dat cow in Baltimo',
My mammy stoled a cow.
Stoled dat cow in Baltimo',
My mammy stoled a cow.
Steal all round, don't slight no one,
My mammy stoled a cow;
Steal all round, don't slight no one,
My mammy stoled a cow.
Chorus
The following song was heard sung by slaves in York County, South Carolina, by Dr. W. F. More, when he was a boy:
I see a rabbit a-runnin' down de fiel';
I say, "Mister Rabbit, whar you gwine?"
She say, "I ain't got no time for to fool wid you,
Dar's a white man comin' on behind."
Chorus: Marsa bought a yaller gal,
He brought her right from de South,
And de hayr on her head was wrop so tight
Dat de sun shone in her mouth.
Chorus Lips jes' like a cherry,
Cheeks jes' like a rose.
How I loves dat yaller gal
Lord Almighty knows!
Chorus: I had a little banjo,
De strings was made of twine,
And de only tune dat I could play Was,
I wish dat gal was mine!
Chorus
Mr. Turner says, "There are numerous other verses to this song, but these are all that I can recall at this time. I am sure that others will be contributed from other sources."
Another favorite instrument was the jawbone. This has been described to me by various people who knew the South in slavery times. It was the jawbone of a horse or ox or mule, with the teeth left in, which made a queer sound when a key or other piece of metal was drawn across the teeth. This is mentioned in a letter from an elderly Virginia woman.
"I have in times past tried to learn something from old darkies here in Charlottesville, darkies even that had belonged to Thomas Jefferson, but without any success. There is one exception to this statement. When I was about ten years old a family from Fluvanna County settled within half a mile of us. They had several slaves who sometimes came to our house at night and gave us music, vocal and instrumental, the instruments being banjo, jawbone of horse, and bones (to crack together, two held in one hand). In singing, the player took any part. He would sing a few words here and there and let his banjo fill in the gap. One piece only do I remember anything about, and all I remember is:
RISE, OLE NAPPER
"Rise, ole Napper, ketch him, ketch him.
Rise, ole Napper, ketch him by de wool.
"This bit of song was sung some seventy years ago." Another ancient fragment given by Katherine Love, of Virginia, whose grandmother learned it from the slaves on her plantation, mentions the jawbone.
I went to old Napper's house,
Old Napper wasn't at home.
I took my seat by the pretty yaller gal
And I picked upon the old jawbone.
Refrain: Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me.
I'm jus' from Alabama with my banjo on my knee.
Dr. John A. Wyeth sang for me an old bit of song about the jawbone:
De jawbone walk,
And de jawbone talk,
And de jawbone eat
Wid a knife and fork.
I lef' my jawbone on de fence,
An' I ain't seed dot jawbone sence.
The jawbone is mentioned in an old song sent by Joseph Turner, of Hollins, Virginia. Ruth Hibbard wrote down the music for this also.
Dweley
Me and Dweley standing in the rain, Dweley,
Me and Dweley standing in the rain, Dweley, Eeeooo!
Me and Dweley standing in the rain,
Some folks say we was insane, Dweley!
Git up son, done sleeper too late dis mornm'!
Git up, son, done sleeper too late dis mornin', Eeeooo!
Git up son, done sleeper too late,
Crawfish man done pass your gate, dis mornin'!
What do you reckon de lighternin' done dis mornin'?
What you reckon de nghternin' done dis mornin', Eeeooo?
What you reckon de Hghternin' done?
It come to my house and killed my son dis mornin'
Jawbone hangin' on de fence dis mornin',
Jawbone hangin' on de fence dis mornin', Eeeooo!
Jawbone hangin' on de fence
And I ain't seen my jawbone since dis mornin'!
Miss Jean Feild reports a variant.
LULA GAL
Jawbone walk and a jawbone talk,
Jawbone eat with a knife and fork.
Lef ma jawbone in de cawnah ob de fence,
An' I hab not seen ma jawbone sence.
Chorus: Lula gal, Lula gal,
Lula gal, Lula gal,
Tie ma shoe, boy, tie ma shoe.
Tie ma shoe, boy, tie ma shoe.
This gruesome instrument, whose crude music livened many a country dance, is mentioned in various songs. The versatile darky, deprived of instruments that others use, could contrive his own, which gave him vast pleasure though they could not satisfy his music-loving soul.
Other instruments were bones held between the different ringers of one hand and rattled with gay lugubriousness. Then, lacking anything else, a Negro could draw wailful music from a comb covered with tissue paper, which he used as a mouth instrument. These were used until recently — and may still be found, as I have often heard music of bones and comb.
A well-known dance-song of the old times was Josey or JimA-long, Josey, which I have often heard my mother sing. My cousin, Mrs. E. H. Ratchliffe, of Natchez, Mississippi, also gave me a part of the version given below.
Jim A-long, Josey
O, I'se from Louisiana, as you all know,
Dar whar Jim a-long, Josey's all de go.
De niggers all rise when de bell do ring,
And dis is de song dat dey do sing:
Chorus Hey, get a-long, get a-long, Josey,
Hey, get a-long, Jim a-long, Jo!
Hey, get a-long, get a-long, Josey,
Hey, get a-long, Jim a-long, Jo!
My sister Rose de udder night did dream
Dat she was floating down de stream,
When she woke up she 'gin to cry,
And de white cat picked out de black cat's eye.
Chorus
Away down south, a long ways off,
A bullfrog died wid de whooping-cough,
And t'other side of Mississippi, as you know,
Was whar I was called fust Jim a-long, Jo.
Chorus
O, when I gets dat new coat dat I hopes to hab soon,
I'll walk my gal by de light of de moon;
As I walks up and down de road wid my Susanna,
De white folks gwine take me to be Santa Anna.
Chorus
The reference to Santa Anna seems to establish a fair antiquity for the song. We find reference to this old song and dance in a dance-song given me by Mr. W. R. Boyd, Jr. This is danced like a Virginia reel.
HOLD MY MULE
Hold my mule while I dance Josey,
Hold my mule while I dance Josey,
Hold my mule while I dance Josey
Oh, Miss Susan Brown.
Wouldn't give a nickel if I couldn't dance Josey,
Wouldn't give a nickel if I couldn't dance Josey,
Wouldn't give a nickel if I couldn't dance Josey,
Oh, Miss Susan Brown.
Had a glass of buttermilk and I danced Josey,
Had a glass of buttermilk and I danced Josey,
Had a glass of buttermilk and I danced Josey,
Oh, Miss Susan Brown.
Here is a variant of the Josey song, that combines stanzas from other well-known favorites. This was sent to me by Virginia Fitzgerald, from Virginia.
As I was going up a new-cut road,
I met a Tarrepin an' a Toad.
Every time the Toad would jump,
The Tarrepin dodge behine a stump.
O! rail, rail, Miss Dinah gal,
O! do come along, my darling!
O! rail, rail, Miss Dinah gal,
O! do come along, my darling!
My ole Missis promise me
When she died she'd set me free;
Now ole Missis dead an' gone,
She lef ole Sambo hillin' up corn.
Hey, Jim a-long, Jam a-long, a-Josie,
Hey, Jim a-long, Jam a-long, Joe!
Hey, Jim a-long, Jam a-long, from Baltimo'!
You go round an' I go through,
You get there befo' I do,
Tell 'em all I'm comin', too.
Hey, Jim a-long, Jam a-long, Josie!
Hey, Jim a-long, Jam a-long, Joe!
Hey, Jim a-long, Jam a-long, from Baltimo'!
Another famous old dance-song, well known especially in Texas, is called 'Tain't Gwine Rain No Mo' One couple enters on the floor with the first stanza and another with each succeeding stanza, till all those present are in the dance. The air and part of the words were given me by Mabel Cranfill, of Dallas, Texas, and various Texans contributed other stanzas.
'TAINT GWINE RAIN NO MO'
Ole cow died at the mouth of the branch,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
The buzzards had a public dance,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
Chorus: 'T ain't gwine rain,
'T ain't gwine snow,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo';
Steal up, ev'rybody, 'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
What did the blackbird say to the crow?
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
'T ain't gwine hail an' 't ain't gwine snow,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
Chorus
Gather corn in a beegum hat,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo';
Ole massa grumble ef you eat much of that,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
Chorus
Two, two, and round up four,
'Tain't gwine rain no mo';
Two, two, and round up four,
'Tain't gwine rain no mo'.
Six, two, and round up four,
'Tain't gwine rain no mo';
Six, two, and round up four,
'Tain't gwine rain no mo'.
Chorus
Chorus
The last line of the chorus is for all to "steal up" in the dance. W. R. Boyd, Jr., formerly of Teague, Texas, gave part of a different version, to which various Texans in New York added stanzas.
Rabbit skipped de garden gate,
'Tain't gwine rain no mo'; Picked a pea and pulled his freight,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
Chorus: Oh, ladies!
'T ain't gwine rain no mo';
'T ain't gwine to sleet, 't ain't gwine snow,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
Rabbit et a turnip top,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo';
He went off a-hippity-hop,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
Chorus
Rabbit hiding behind a pine,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo';
Had one eye shut an' t'other eye blind,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
Chorus
Bake them biscuits good and brown,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo';
Swing yo' ladies round and round,
'T ain't gwine rain no mo'.
Chorus
One can hear the scrape of the lively fiddle playing the tune and the fiddler's voice singing the song, as the couples go through the spirited dance. The leader starts the song and all present join in, so there is communal singing as well as dancing — perhaps a fashion too strenuous for weary city-folk, but enjoyed by rustic dancers. Other variants to this are known in Texas.
Thereis an old song reported from various states, under several names with differing choruses, but a lively memory with many people. This version was given by Lucy Dickinson Urquhart, of Lynchburg, Virginia, contributed through the kindness of Lois Upshaw, of Dallas, Texas, who wrote down the music.
OL' VIRGINNY NEVER TIRE
There is a gal in our town,
She wears a yallow striped gown,
And when she walks the streets aroun',
The hollow of her foot makes a hole in the groun'.
Chorus: Ol' folks, young folks, cl'ar the kitchen,
Ol' folks, young folks, cl'ar the kitchen.
Ol' Virginny never tire.
As I was walkhV up the Three Chop Road
I met a terrapin and a toad.
Ev'ry time the toad would jump,
The terrapin dodged behind a stump.
Chorus
This was an old dance-song, which Mrs. Dickinson's grandmother sang, as she had learned it from the slaves. There were various other stanzas, she says. The Three Chop Road is in the outskirts of Richmond, a famous old road, which Mary Johnston mentions in one of her novels.
Edwin Swain, formerly of Florida, reported a different chorus as sung in his state in his boyhood.
Ol' folks, young folks, cl'ar de kitchen,
Ol' folks, young folks, cl'ar de kitchen,
Jinny, git yo' hoecake round.
Mr. Dowd and Miss Cohen, of Charleston, South Carolina, say that the Negroes in their state sang this chorus:
OP folks, young folks, cl'ar de kitchen,
For de ol' Virginny reel.
Garnett Eskew, of West Virginia, reports the song under a different title.
Dar Was a Gal in our Town
Dar was a gal in our town,
She had a yallow, striped gown,
An' ebery time she put her foot down
De hollow of her heel make a hole in de ground.
Chorus
Children, don't get weary,
Children, don't get weary,
Children, don't get weary,
Love come a-trinklin' down.
Jay bird sittin' on a swingin' limb,
He winked at me an' I winked at him.
Picked up a rock an' hit him on de chin.
"Look heah, Nigger, don't you do dat agin!"
Chorus
An old version, attributed to T. Rice, goes as follows:
In old Kentuck in de arternoon,
We sweep de floor wid a bran new broom,
And arter dat we form a ring
And dis de song dat we do sing:
Chorus: Oh, clare de kitchen, old folks, young folks,
Clare de kitchen, old folks, young folks,
Old Virginny neber tire.
I went to de creek, I couldn't get across,
I'd nobody wid me but an old blind horse;
But old Jim Crow come riding by,
Says he, "Old feller, your horse will die."
Chorus
My horse fell down upon de spot;
Says he, "Don't you see his eyes is sot?"
So I took out my knife and off wid his skin,
And when he comes to life I'll ride him agin.
Chorus
A jay bird sot on a hickory limb,
He winked at me and I winked at him.
I picked up a stone and I hit his shin,
Says he, "You better not do dat agin."
Chorus
A bull frog dressed in sojer's clo'se,
Went in de field to shoot some crows;
De crows smell powder and fly away;
De bull frog mighty mad dat day.
Chorus
Den I went down wid Cato Moore,
To see de steamboat come ashore.
Every man for himself, so I picked up a trunk;
"Left off," said de captain, "or burn you wid a chunk.
Chorus
I hab a sweetheart in dis town,
She wears a yellow striped gown,
And when she walks de streets around,
De hollow of her foot make a hole in de ground.
Chorus
Dis love it is a ticklish thing, you know,
It makes a body feel all over so;
I put de question to coal-black Rose,
She black as ten of spades and got a lubly flat nose.
Chorus
"Go away," said she, "wid your cowcumber shin,
If you come here agin I stick you wid a pin."
So I turn on my heel and I bid her good-bye,
And arter I was gone she began for to cry.
Chorus
So now I'se up and off, you see,
To take a julep sangaree,
I'll sit upon a 'tater hill
And eat a little whippoorwill.
Chorus
I wish I was back in old Kentuck,
For since I left it I had no luck;
De gals so proud dey won't eat mush,
And when you go to court 'em dey say, O hush!
Chorus
Perhaps Rice — if he did compose this version — used an old folk-song as his basis; and certainly there are fragments of various authentic folk-songs in this salmagundi. In various parts of the country, versions of the following song, or at least of this chorus, are heard, with different local references:
Oh, Louisiana gal, won't you come out to-night,
Won't you come out to-night,
Won't you come out to-night?
Louisiana gal, won't you come out to-night,
And dance by the light of the moon?
Oh, yaller gal, won't you come out to-night,
Won't you come out to-night,
Won't you come out to-night?
Oh, yaller gal, won't you come out to-night,
And dance by the light of the moon?
Buffalo gal, won't you come out to-night,
Won't you come out to-night,
Won't you come out to-night?
Buffalo gal, won't you come out to-night,
And dance by the light of the moon?
I'll give you a dollar if you'll come out to-night,
If you'll come out to-night,
If you'll come out to-night,
I'll give you a dollar if you'll come out to-night,
And dance by the light of the moon.
A Texas variant adds this stanza, which is from another old song — or a part of it is, at least:
I danced with a girl with a hole in her stockin',
And her heel kep' a-rockin',
And her heel kep' a-rockin';
I danced with a girl with a hole in her stockin',
We danced by the light of the moon.
These versions are variations of the chorus of an old song of whose authorship I have found no trace. Possibly it is a minstrel.
BUFFALO GALS
A han'some gal I chanced to meet,
Oh, she was fair to view!
As I was lumb'ring down de street,
Down de street, down de street,
A han'some gal I chanced to meet,
Oh, she was fair to view!
Chorus: Buffalo gals, can't you come out to-night,
Can't you come out to-night,
Can't you come out to-night?
Buffalo gals, can't you come out to-night,
And dance by de light ob de moon?
I axed her would she hab some talk,
Hab some talk, hab some talk.
Her feet covered up de whole sidewalk,
As she stood close by me.
Chorus
I axed her would she hab a dance,
Hab a dance, hab a dance.
I thought dat I might get a chance,
To shake a foot wid her.
Chorus
MISS MARY JANE
Ridin' in de buggy,
Miss Mary Jane,
Miss Mary Jane,
Miss Mary Jane, Ridin' in de buggy,
Miss Mary Jane, I'm a long ways from home.
Chorus: Who moan for me?
Who moan for me?
Who moan for me, my darlin'?
Who moan for me?
Sally got a house
In Baltimo,
Baltimo',
Baltimo',
Sally got a house
In Baltimo',
An' it's full o' chicken pie.
Chorus
I got a gal
In Baltimo',
Baltimo',
Baltimo',
I got a gal
In Baltimo',
And she's three stories high.
The dances and the dance-songs of the Creole Negroes— that is, of the slaves belonging to Creoles, the French and Spanish people in certain sections of the South, more especially Louisiana — were different from those of the other slaves. Not only was the language different, being the Creole patois,—that strange tongue representing the struggles of Africans with the highly cultured French language, which contains vocal sounds not found in primitive African dialects, — but the dances also were more barbaric and unrestrained, nearer to the jungle.
In an article, "The Dance in Place Congo," in the Century Magazine, 1886, George W. Cable tells of the dances among the Louisiana Negroes in slavery times, of barbaric celebrations so indecent that they were finally forbidden by law. He describes the instruments used with these primitive, sinister dances, which were very different from the merry-making of Negroes in other sections:
"The booming of African drums and blast of huge wooden horns called to the gathering. . . . The drums were long, hollowed, often from a single piece of wood, open at one end and having a sheep- or goat-skin stretched across the other. One was large, the other much smaller. The tight skin heads were not held up to be struck; the drums were laid along on the turf and the drummers bestrode them, and beat them on the head madly with fingers, fists and feet — with slow vehemence on the great drum, and fiercely and rapidly on the small one. Sometimes an extra performer sat on the ground behind the larger drum at its open end and'beat' upon the wooden sides of it with two sticks."
The smaller drum was often made from a joint or two of very-large bamboo, in the West Indies where such could be got, and this is said to be the origin of its name, for it was called "bamboula."
"A queer thing that went with these when the affair was pretentious was the Marimba brett, a union of reed and string principles. A single strand of wire ran lengthwise a bit of wooden board, sometimes a shallow box of thin wood, some eight inches long by four or five wide, across which, under the wire, were several joints of reed about a quarter of an inch in diameter and of graduated lengths. The performer, sitting cross-legged, held the board in both hands and plucked the ends of the reeds with his thumb-nails. But the grand instrument was — the banjo. . . . For the true African dance, a dance not so much of legs and feet as of the upper part of the body, a sensual, devilish thing tolerated only by Latin-American masters, there was wanted the dark inspiration of the African drum and the banjo's thrump and strum."
Another instrument which they used sometimes was the "reed-pipe" or "quill." Mr. Krehbiel gave a "quill tune," which a gentleman from Alabama furnished him.
The dance-songs of the Creoles are mostly nonsensical, but the music is haunting and wild, with a sensuous appeal appropriate to their dances.
One favorite dance-song was a senseless, interminable repetition of a line, "Quand papete la cuite na va mange li!" meaning "When the sweet potato is cooked, we shall" eat it," according to one authority, and according to Cable, "When that 'tater Js cooked don't you eat it up!" Either way, there is little charm to the words, but the air has its wild appeal. It is repeated over and over and over. This is a song for the bamboula dance.
In "Slave Songs of the United States " is printed a Creole slave song from Louisiana, making fun of a dandy Negro, which is also a bamboula.
VOYEZ CE MULET LA
Voyez ce mulet la,
Miche Bain jo,
Comme il est insolent!
Chapeau sur cot,
Miche Bainjo,
La canne a la main,
Miche Bainjo,
Bottes qui fe crin, crin,
Miche Bainjo.
Voyez ce mulet la, Miche Bainjo,
Comme il est insolent!
This, roughly translated, means:
Look at that darky there, Mr. Banjo,
Doesn't he strut about!
Hat cocked on one side, Mr. Banjo,
His cane in his hand, Mr. Banjo,
Boots that go creak, creak, Mr. Banjo.
Does n't he strut about?
Another famous dance of the Creole Negroes was the counjaille. Cable gives part of one song which he says was one of the best-known of these counjaille songs, and was much over a hundred years old. A Creole lady in New Orleans gave me a variant of this old counjaille.
UN DEUX TROIS
Un, deux, trois.
Caroline qui fais comme sa ma chere?
Un, deux, trois.
Caroline qui fais comme sa ma chere?
Maman dit oui, papa dit non,
Celui mo lais, celui mo prends.
Maman dit oui, papa dit non,
Celui mo lais, celui mo prends.
Translated, this reads:
One, two, three.
Caroline, what is the matter with you, my dear?
One, two, three.
Caroline, what is the matter with you, my dear?
Mama says yes, papa says no.
It is he I wish, it is he I'll have.
Mama says yes, papa says no.
It is he I wish, it is he I'll have.
Aurore Pradere is also a well-known counjaille song, Cable says.
AURORE PRADERE
ca ye dit—Sia!
Mobinfoubinl
Cestli mo ou-le,
C'est li ma prend.
The English version goes:
Aurore Pradere, pretty maid,
Aurore Pradere, pretty maid,
Aurore Pradere, pretty maid,
She's just what I want, and her I'll have.
Solo: Some folks says she's too pretty quite;
Some folks says she's not polite;
All this they say — Psha-a-ah!
More fool am I!
For she's what I want and her I'll have.
Chorus: Aurore Pradere, pretty maid,
Aurore Pradere, pretty maid,
Aurore Pradere, pretty maid,
She's just what I want and her I'll have.
Solo: Some say she's going to the bad,
Some say her mamma went mad;
All this they say — Psha-a-ah!
More fool am I!
For she's what I want and her I'll have.
There was also the calinda, an indecent dance, which was forbidden in Louisiana after 1843, tradition says. "The calinda was a dance of multitudes, a sort of vehement cotillion. The contortions of the encircling crowd were strange and terrible, the din was hideous. One calinda is still familiar to all Creole ears.' It has long been a vehicle for the white Creole's satire. For generations the man in municipal politics was fortunate who escaped entirely a lampooning set to this air."
Clara Gottschalk Peterson gives a song, Calinda, also, in her collection, " Creole Songs from New Orleans in the Negro Dialect." The translation of her song deals with a Mister Mazireau who seemed like a bullfrog. The refrain was
Dance, dance, Calinda dim sin! bourn! bourn!
Cable's version is of a Judge Prebal who gave a ball and charged three dollars for the tickets. It ends,
Dance Calinda, Bon-djoum!
Dance Calinda, Bon Bon-djoum!
In an article," Creole Slave Songs," in the Century Magazine, 1886, George W. Cable gives various other dance-songs of the Creole slaves. One shows the satiric nature appearing in many of the Creole songs, as distinctfrom those of the slaves of other sections. It mocks the free colored folk, those who were bound by certain fixed conventions of their class. The quadroon woman, called here milatraisse, could go to the ball, which was frequented by certain types of white men, and the black man, called here by a name signifiying crocodile, attended her to the ball to light her way by a lantern — there being no street lights then, and the free quadroon man could go to the ball only as a musician — a menial position in those days.
MILATRAISSE COURRI DANS BAL
Milatraisse courri dans bal,
Cocodrie po'te fanal,
Trouloulou!
C'est pas zaffaire a tou,
C'est pas zaffaire a tou,
Trouloulou!
This says:
Yellow girl goes to the ball,
Nigger lights her to the hall,
Fiddler man!
Now, what is that to you?
Say, what is that to you?
Fiddler man?
Other Creole songs were given me by Mrs. La Rose and Mrs. Deywoodt, of New Orleans.
Le Chien
Hyaun petit chien chez nous,
Qui remue les pattes,
Qui remue les pattes,
II y a un petit chien chez nous,
Qui remue les pattes tout comme vous.
Translated into English, this means:
There's a little dog at our house,
Who shakes his feet,
Who shakes his feet,
There's a little dog at our house,
Who shakes his feet just like you.
Another has to do with a young girl who married a very small man.
Mamman Donne Moi tjn Pitit Maki
Mamman donne moi un pitit mari.
Bon Dieu, quel le pitit!
Mo mette le chouche dans mo lite,
Bon Dieu, comme li si' t'on pitit!
Chatte rentre et prende li pour un sourit.
Bon Dieu, quel ti un homme qui li pitit!
Roughly translated, this means:
Mama Gave Me a Little Husband
Mama gave me a little husband.
My goodness, what a little man!
I put him to sleep in my bed, —
My goodness, what a little man!
The cat enters and takes him for a mouse.
My goodness, what a little man!
Another whimsical song, with not much meaning, is about a man walking on Common Street.
MO-TE-A-PE PROMENE SUR LA RUE COMMUNE
la xn'ocu-lot-te cra-quet et f ais moin as - si par-ter - re.
Mo-te a-pe promene sur la Rue Commune,
Quand Mo-te a-pe boire un bon berre la bierre.
Voila m'o culotte craquet et fais moin assi par terre.
What happened here was that a man was promenading on Common Street, in New Orleans, after he had had a drink of a good glass of beer. He met the narrator there and spanked him and made him sit down on the ground. The song gives no clue to any previous feud, but leaves the inference that perhaps the beer was to blame.
There are many other old dance-songs of the slavery days which have survived. Miss Virginia Fitzgerald sends me this one from Virginia:
Bile dem Cabbage Down
Marster had a old gray rooster
Uster crow for day.
There came along a harricane,
And blowed dat chicken away.
Chorus: Bile dem cabbage down,
Bile dem cabbage down;
Stop dat foolishness, I say,
And bile dem cabbage down!
Wish I had a tin box
To keep my sweetheart in.
I'd take her out and kiss her
And put her back agin.
Chorus
Wish I had a needle and thread
As fine as I could sew.
I'd sew my sweetheart to my side
And down de road I'd go.
Chorus
Sebenteen hundred and sebenty-six,
De year I got my jawbone fixed,
I put my jawbone on de fence,
And I ain't seen dat jawbone sence.
Chorus
Some folks say de Debbil 's dead
And buried in a shoe.
But I seed de Debbil t'other day
And he looks jus' as good as you.
Chorus
If I had a scolding wife
I'd whoop 'er sho's you born.
Hitch her to a double plow
And make her plow my corn.
She says, "I live in a typical inland county where my people have lived since before the Revolution and where many of the old customs and traditions still survive. . . . The old lady who has given me most of my songs is now bedridden and she amuses herself by writing out what she can remember. . . . There is an old-time fiddler and banjo-player here and I will get him to help me with the music, though he is very shy about playing now.
"This song was sung to me by an old lady of Nottaway County, Virginia, who had heard it before the war. The number of verses varies, but some at least are generally known. I have never heard a Negro sing it, but it is very hard to get a Nottaway Negro to sing anything but hymns. The music is suggestive of that of Polly-Wolly-Doodle, 0 Susanna, etc., and has a Negro swing to it. The fiddlers used it as a dance tune."
Thomas D. Rice, or Jim Crow Rice, as he was called, utilized an old Negro folk-song which he heard a slave sing in Louisville, Kentucky. William Winter relates the incident in his " Wallet of Time.''
Jim Crow was old and had a deformity that caused him to limp peculiarly as he walked, and he would croon a queer old song, and "set his heel a-rocking" with the refrain,
Wheel about, turn about, do jes' so,
And ebery time I wheel about, I jump Jim Crow!
Rice wrote other words for the song and elaborated a make-up after that of the old darky, and created a sensation with it in a minstrel show. The song attributed to Rice is as follows—though I do not know how much of it could be called a folk-song, or how much is Rice's composition. From various sections of the country I have received fragments of the song and the refrain, showing that it is a folk-song from usage, as well as in origin.
Jim Crow
Come, listen, all you gals and boys,
I'se just from Tuckyhoe.
I'm goin' to sing a little song,
My name 's Jim Crow.
I went down to de river,
I didn't mean to stay;
But dere I see so many gals
I could n't get away.
And arter I been dere awhile
I fought I push my boat;
But I tumbled in de river
An' I find myself afloat.
I git upon a flat boat
I cotch de Uncle Sam;
Den I went to see de place where
Dey killed de Packenham.
An' den I go to New Orleans
An' feel so full of fight,
Dey put me in de Calaboose
An' keep me dere all night.
When I got out I hit a man,
His name I now forgot;
But dere was nothin' left of him
'Cept a little grease spot.
Anoder day I hit a man,
De man was mighty fat;
I hit so hard I knocked him
To an old cockt hat.
I whipt my weight in wildcats,
I eat an alligator,
I drunk de Mississippy up!
O, I'm de very creature!
I sit upon a hornet's nest,
I dance upon my head;
I tie a wiper round my neck
An' den I go to bed.
I kneel to de buzzard,
An' I bow to de crow,
An' ebery time I weel about,
I jump jis' so. [1]
[1] This seems an authentic folk-song stanza.
Lydia Gumbel, of Straight College, New Orleans, sends a fragment which is said to be translated from the Creole, though I think that is probably a mistake, since it appears to be a part of this familiar old song.
"Whar you gwine, Buzzard?
Whar you gwine, Crow? "
"I'se gwine down to New Ground
To jump Jim Crow.
Every time I turn around
I jump Jim Crow."
W. R. Boyd, Jr., gives this variant:
JUMP JIM CROW
Turn about and twist about,
And do jis' so. An' every time you turn about,
You jump Jim Crow.
Miss Fitzgerald sent another song, given her by an old lady who heard the Negro boys sing these as banjo tunes before the war.
Miss Dinah
I wish I was an apple
Miss Dinah was another.
An' O! what a happy pair we'd make
On the tree together.
An' oh! how jealous those darkies'd be
When by my side they spied her.
An' oh! what a happy pair we'd be,
All squished up into cider.
Chorus
Oh! I love Miss Dinah so,
Oh! I love Miss Dinah so.
She was so gay as Christmas day;
Yar, har! I love her so!
One day, one day by de margin of de ribber
De wind blewed kinder fresh;
An' it made Miss Dinah shibber;
She shibbered so hard I thought she'd fall
So in my arms I caught her;
But when de wind blewed up again,
It blewed us in de water.
Chorus
De people dey said dey thought us both was drownded,
Miss Dinah she was raked ashore,
But I was never founded.
Chorus
These old dance-songs have a lively invitation which is still strong after all these years; for when one hears them, the feet instinctively pat in time and the body sways in rhythm with the lines. There is a gay abandon, an elemental joy about them. They are crude, yes, but who will say they are as cheap and vulgar as many of the songs people dance to to-day? They have their rough, primitive charm in music and in words, and they are in themselves worthy of our interest, apart from their historic association. They show us the lighter, happier side of slavery, and re-create for us the rustic merrymaking of the slaves on many old plantations of the South. They deserve a volume to themselves.