CONTENTS IV. OUTLAWS
Pass Around Your Bottle.......296
Sweet Thing......... 298
Three Nights Drunk.....300
Darling Corey......... 302
Jack o' Diamonds.......... 303
Stavin' Chain.......... 305
My Father Gave Me a Lump of Gold . . . 307
As I Set Down to Play Tin-Can . . . 308
Little Willie's My Darlin'...... . . 310
Adieu to the Stone Walls.........3.11
We Don't Get No Justice Here in Atlanta . ... . . . 313
The Reek and the Rambling Blade...... 314
When First to This Country a Stranger I Came . . . . .315
Brennan on the Moor..........317
The Wild Colonial Boy..........320
The Vance Song.......... 322
The Rowan County Crew......... .324
Harvey Logan............326
Dupree..............328
Bugger Burns............ 331
Duncan and Brady........... 333
Batson.............. 335
Po' Laz'us............. 342
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OUTLAWS
"1 used to think that it was just simply the Devil in people, and that the Devil ruled the people, and that they was corrupt-minded, and that they never did have anything in their minds that was pure and right. But now 1 have been forced, through misery and depression and through seein' so much misery among the people, that through experience Pve learnt that it's just simply that they go beyond control, that they're aggravated so much from their horrible misery and sufferin' that they have to do, they have such a hard life that the people are just simply not theirselves."
—Aunt Molly Jackson.
PASS AROUND YOUR BOTTLE
efr>. No. 1601. Acc. on banjo and sung by Walter Williams, Salyersville, Ky., 1937.
aThe four of us was rambling through the mountains, a-drinking, and we had a quart of whisky apiece. John would drink like pouring it down a crawfish hole or somepen, and the rest of us would take little light drinks. Well} me an* John, we got away ahead of Earl Lee an* Peanut. So, me an* Earl Lee separated up, an* Earl Lee an* Peanut got together, an} me an* John got together. Me an* John had come to the country there together, and Earl Lee an* Peanut had come together. Well, we got away of down there, an* John he git his little pocketknife out, a Barlow, an* open it up. He*d say this an* that to me an* first one damn thing an* another, an* we*d climb over logs and through damn brushes and everything else until toreckly Earl Lee an* Peanut got up to us pretty close, you know; and Earl Lee had a damn big stick fit fer a fiddle and another big stick fer a bow and they*d plumb stopped there. Earl Lee was playin* the fiddle and Peanut had another big stick, just pickiny it, like it was a banjer or a guitar. Jest a-pickin* away an* a-singin* away. 'Turn, turn, turn, turn, turn*
"Well, we started off down the hollers, and we ain*t went fer till they both had a fiddle and a guitar and a banjer again, jest plinkin* away, a-playin* a fiddle an* singin* (Little Darlin* * an* (Pal 0* Mine* an* When the Roses Bloom Agin*, and ever damn thing on earth**
i Oh, pass around your bottle, we'll all take a drink, Oh, I'm bound for another spring. Oh, them don't like me can let me alone, For my darling's gone back on me.
2 Well, my old clothes are dirty and torn, My shoes are full of holes,
Oh, my old hat is hanging all around, And it's almost touching my nose.
3 Oh, pass around your bottle and we'll all take a drink, It's been all around this room;
Oh, pass it to the boys that fears no noise, Although we're far from home.
4 I remember what my old mamma said, She gave me good advice;
She told me to quit my rambling ways, And marry me a loving little wife.
5 You can shoot, you can cut, you can rip, you can tear, You can do whatever you will;
For I ramble around from town to town, And I drink corn whisky still.
6 When I were young and a-running around, I had a little money to spend,
I spent it for drink, but I never did think That my fun would ever end.
SWEET THING
do. No. 246. Acc. on guitar and sung by Leroy Allen on the Cummins State Farm, Ark., 1935. See Sh, 2:357, L0.2, 153. Version 2, from Knott County, Ky. In the past ten years this tune has been popular over the radio and on the phonograph, often as "The Crawdad Song."
1 What you gonna do when the liquor gives out, sweet thing? (2) What you gonna do when the liquor gives out?
A-standing on the corner with your mouth poked out, Sweet thing, sweet thing, sweet thing?
2 Danced all night with the bottle in my hand, A-looking for the woman ain't got no man.
3 Well, the boiler busted and the smokestack fell, Killed my darling dead as hell.
4 Goin' get me a bucket, gwine to the wood; The berries give out, makes rollin' good.
5 I stuck my hook in the crawfish hole, I couldn't get it out to save my soul.
6 Wake up, old man, you slept too late, The crawfish wagon done passed your gate.
7 What did the old hen say to the rooster?
"If you gonna catch me, gotta run me down."
8 Oh, what the old hen, he say to the drake? "It ain't no fish in this old lake."
9 You get the hook and I got the pole, Let's go down to the crawfish hole.
Version 2—The Crawdad Song
i A~settin' on the ice till my feet got cold, A-watchin' that crawdad dig his hole.
2 Crawdad, crawdad, you'd better dig deep, For I'm a-goin' to ramble in my sleep.
3 A-settin' on the ice till my feet got hot, A-watchin' that crawdad rack and trot.
4 Crawdad, crawdad, you'd better go to hole, If I don't catch you, damn my soul.
5 A-settin' on the ice till my feet got numb, A-watchin' that crawdad back and come.
6 Shoot your dice and roll 'em in the sand,
I ain't a-gonna work for no damned man.
7 Apple cider and cinnamon beer, Cold hog's head and a nigger's ear.
THREE NIGHTS DRUNK
bb. No. 1351. Ace. on guitar and mandolin and sung by Mr. and Mrs. E. C. Ball, Rugby, Va., 1937. See "Our Goodman," Child, No. 274* Sh, 1:2673 Sea, 2, pp. 231 ffj Be, p. 89.
I. MAN
First night when I come home, as drunk as I could be, Found a horse in the stable, where my horse ought to be.
"Now come, little wife, my dear little wife, will you splain this to me? Here's a horse in the stable, where my horse ought to be."
Woman
"You blind fool, you silly fool, cain't you never see? It's nothin' but a milk cow your mother give to me."
Man
"Fve traveled this wide world over, ten thousand miles or more, Saddle on a milk cow's back I never did see before."
2. Man
Second night when I come home, drunk as I could be, Found an overcoat on the rack where my overcoat ought to be.
"Now come, little wife, my dear little wife, will you splain this to me? Here's an overcoat on the rack, where my overcoat ought to be."
Woman
"You blind fool, you silly fool, cain't you never see? It's nothin' but a bedquilt your granny give to me."
Man
"I've traveled this wide world over, ten thousand miles or more3 Pockets in a bedquilt I never did see before."
3. Man
Third night when I come home, drunk as I could be, Head on the pillow where my head ought to be.
"Now come, little wife, my dear little wife, will you splain this to me? Here's a head on the pillow where my head ought to be."
Woman
"You blind fool, you silly fool, cain't you never see? It's nothin' but a cabbage head your mother give to me."
Man
"I've traveled this wide world over, ten thousand miles or more; Eyes and nose on a cabbage head I never did see before."
DARLING COREY
bb. No. 828. Aunt Molly Jackson, New York City. See Victor record No. 35838, for banjo accompaniment. Ca, p. 23.
Toast:
Here's to those that wears no clothes and has no wife to mend them, Here's to a boy that has jew dimes but a damn free heart to spend them.
uThere was a woman who used to say a lot of these here rough toasts; her na7ne was Suze Carroll an' her generation was knowed to be brave and tough. She could outcussy outdrink any man in Clay County} an' she would pass all sorts of rough remarks and jokesy but she couldn't be bought or persuaded to make a dishonest move against her husband."
—Aunt Molly Jackson.
i Wake up, wake up, darling Corey, What makes you sleep so sound? The revenue officers is a-comin? To tear your stillhouse down.
2 Go away from me, darling Corey, Quit hanging around my bed, Pretty women run me distracted, Corn liquor's killed me stone-dead.
3 The last time I saw darling Corey, She had a dram glass in her hand; She was drinkm' down her troubles With that low-down, dirty man.
4 Last night as I lay on my pillow, Last night as I lay on my bed, Last night as I lay on my pillow,
I dreamed darling Corey was dead.
5 I'm going across deep waters, I'm going across the sea, I'm going across deep waters, Going to bring darling Corey to me.
6 Go and dig me a hole in the meadow, Go and dig me a hole in the ground, Go and dig me a hole in the meadow, Just to lay darling Corey down.
7 Don't you hear them bluebirds singing, Don't you hear that mournful sound, They're preaching darling Corey's funeral In the lonesome graveyard ground.
8 The last time I saw darling Corey, She had a wineglass in her hand, She was drinking down her troubles With a low-down, sorry man.
JACK O' DIAMONDS
db. No. 89. Ace. with knife guitar and sung by Pete Harris, Richmond, Texas, 1934. Probably derived from Blind Lemon Jefferson's record, "Jack of Diamonds," Paramount 12373.
What kinda fants does the gambler wear? Great big strifes, cost nine dollars a fair.
This version was recorded from the singing of Pete Harris, a Negro living in Richmond, Texas. Blind Lemon Jefferson of Dallas, the first Negro folk singer to make commercial records, popularized this old Texas gambling song—one of the blues' first cousins. Paramount 12373-A, if you can find this rare record, contains Blind Lemon's version, and furnished us with all but our first and last stanzas.
Chorus:
Jack o? Diamonds, Jack o? Diamonds, Jack o' Diamonds is a hard card to play.
i Well, I bet my money in the spring, And it set me all in a strain. Jack o' Diamonds is a hard card to play.
2 Jack o? Diamonds won this time, He did rob a friend of mine,
Jack oJ Diamonds is a hard card to play.
3 Bet the Jack against the Queen, It gonna turn yo? money green!
Jack o' Diamonds is a hard card to play.
4 Bet the Jack against the foJ, You gonna win right in the do',
Jack o? Diamonds is a hard card to play.
5 Jack o5 Diamonds made me cry, Say, I'm gonna gamble till I die,
Jack o5 Diamonds is a hard card to play.
6 Well, I begin to play in the fall, Kep? me wearin' my blue overalls, Jack o? Diamonds is a hard card to play.
Chorus:
Oh, li'l' Alice, oh, li'P Alice,
Oh, li'P Alice, keep yoJ hole in the wall.
STAVIN' CHAIN
e. No. 210. Ace. on guitar and sung by Tricky Sam, Huntsville, Texas, 1934. See PTFLS, No. 5, p. 179.
Purported to be a Virginia rounder, Stavin' Chain has been heard from all over the South—a sort of sexy Paul Bunyan. It is worth noting in this connection that we have encountered a number of guitar players nicknamed Stavin' Chain—Little Stavin' Chain, Big Stavin' Chain, etc.—none of whom could or would tell us what his nickname meant. Guitar players, however, have the reputation of being midnight creepers.
This version, sung and censored for us by Tricky Sam of Huntsville, Texas, has been approved by various old-time barroom musicians as an authentic piece of early ragtime of the sort that some might call "a blackguard song."
i Stavin' Chain is dead and gone,
Left me here to carry his good work on.
Chorus:
Pm makin' it down, baby, like Stavin' Chain, ol' Stavin* Chain. Pm makin' it down, just like Stavin' Chain.
a Pm goin' away to wear you off my mind,
You keep me worried and bothered all the time.
3 Stavin' Chain was a man like dis, Stood on the corner an' wind his fist.
4 Long and tall, just about my height, Won't mistreat you to save yo' life.
5 I tell you, baby, like the Dago tol' the Jew, "If you don' likee me, I don' likee you."
6 It ain't but one thing worried my mind, Brown-skin gal quit me in the wintertime.
7 I got ten little puppies, one little shaggy houn', Take all them puppies to run my brown-skin down.
8 Looky here, gal, you need not squall,
Goin' to take the wig I bought you, let your head go bald.
9 Some of these days, an' it won't be long, You call my name an' I'll be gone.
io All the women found out that Stavin' was dead, Rushed right home and they dressed in red.
11 Stavin's Chain is dead and gone, He's in hell with his Stetson on.
MY FATHER GAVE ME A LUMP OF GOLD
/. No. 863. Mrs. Emma Dusenberry, Mena, Ark., 1936. Through the courtesy of Lawrence Powell. See Sh, 2:79; Ja-*i P- <58j Be, p. Z59.
jined this low-down gang, And no—one— cares for me. * With one exception, all half rests in all stanzas and choruses are shortened by one beat.
I My father dear, so far from here, Has give me good advice; He told me to quit my rambling way, And settle down in life.
Chorus:
I will ramble and PU roam and Pll call for my board, Let this wide world go as she will, For I have jined this low-down gang, And no one cares for me.
2 My father gave me a lump of gold. It pleased me mighty well;
It neither bought me a house nor lot, Nor saved my soul from hell.
3 My mother dear, so far away, Has give me good advice 5
She told me to quit my rambling way, And stay at home with her.
4 My sister dear, so far away. Has give me good advice;
She told me to quit my rambling way, And marry a pretty little wife.
AS I SET DOWN TO PLAY TIN-CAN
bb. No. 1542. Howard Home, Hazard, Ky., 1937. See Sc.2, p. 87j Ga.2, 3355 Victor record No. 205346; Fl.2, p. 153. Usually titled "The Boston Burglar" or "Po' Boy."
i As I set down to play tin-can,* I could not play my hand, For thinking of the woman that I once did love, Run away with another man. Run away with another man, poor boy, Run away with another man, For thinking of the woman that I once did love, Run away with another man,
2 I went down to the big depot, The train came rolling by j
I looked into the window, seen the woman that I loved,
Bowed down my head and cried,
Bowed down my head and cried, poor boy,
Bowed my head and cried,
I looked into the window, seen the woman that I loved,
Bowed down my head and cried.
3 I caught the back end of the train, I walked right down the aisle,
I pulled out my big 40-some-odd, And I shot that brown-skin child.
4 "Oh, Judge, oh, Judge, kind-hearted Judge, Oh, what are you going to do with me?" aIf I find you guilty, poor boy,
Going to sentence you to the penitentiaree."
5 The Judge he found me guilty, boys, And the clerk he wrote it down;
He turned me over to the contractor,. And now Pm penitentiaree-bound.
6 The night was dark and stormy, boys, It sure did look like rain 3
Not a friend in all this wide, wide world, Nobody knowed my name.
* Usually sung "coon-can."
Our Singing Country
My mother's in her cold, cold grave,
My father's gone away,
My sister married a gambling man.
And I have gone astray,
And I have gone astray, poor boy,
And I have gone astray,
My sister married a gambling man,
And I have gone astray.
LITTLE WILLIE'S MY DARLIN'
c. No. 98. Acc. on guitar and sung- by George W. Smith, Raleigh, N.C., 1934. See L0.2, p. 147} also numerous recordings, "Twenty-one Years," "An Answer to Twenty-one Years," etc.
With "Home on the Range," "Frankie and Albert," "The Red River Valley," "St. Louis Blues," and a few others, this is among the best known American folk tunes. Popularized over the air and on commercial records, it has grown from its humble "Down in the Valley" theme to be best known of all jailhouse songs. "Twenty-one Years," "An Answer to Twenty-one Years" are two of the prodigious family of parodies it has fathered. "Little Willie," sung by a Negro convict in North Carolina, has more charm than any other version we have heard.
Chorus:
Little Willie's my darling Little Willie's my dear, If you think I don't love her, Got a foolish idea.
i She wrote me one letter, She sent it by mail, She sent it in care Of the Washington jail.
1 Gonna build me one steeple On the mountain so high, So I can see Willie Passin' on by.
3 She said that she loved me Just to give my heart ease 5 Just as soon as my back was turned, She loved who she pleased.
* Only. 4 I rapped on her window, I knocked on her do', She gave me short answer, "Don't knock there no mo'."
5 Sittin' in the prison With my back to the wall, Old corn whisky
Was the cause of it all.
6 The judge said, "Stand up, George, And dry up your tears;
You're sentenced to Raleigh For twenty-two years."
7 If I had on' * listened. To what mother said, I'd 'a' been there today In her feather bed*
ADIEU TO THE STONE WALLS
/#. No. 647. Gant family, Austin, Texas, 1936.
A noticeably modern story of a convict's escape into the "free world"—to the freedom for which every prisoner longs, and about which some of the best prison ballads are made.
i "Adieu to the Stone Walls," the prisoner sighed ; "I'm now going to leave you, done made up my mind, I'm now going to leave you, farther westward to stroll, I'll ride them long Red Balls wherever they roJL"
2 I mounted that Red Ball, just about ttn o'clock;
The whistle blowed loudly, the drive-wheels did knock; The whistle blowed loudly o'er a lost boy's trail, The echoes did mingle far over the hills.
3 The drive wheels were knocking at a forty-mile rate, And, boys, I was riding that long Red Ball freight; I dumb to the caboose, to all trainmen's place, Starvation and death, boys, were both in my face.
4 Then we rolled to a city where they bought me some clothes, They dressed me so neatly from my head to my toes; They bought me a brake cap, also a white light,
Saying, "If you're skillful, you'll make it all right,"
5 They tried me awhile, boys, said: "Now you're all right. Climb out on the top now, take with you this light."
I dumb out on top, boys, and I waved them to go, A-watchin' my signal conductor below.
6 Then we rolled to the next city where they're searching for me; I paid them no mind, boys, you can plainly see.
Up stepped a lone cop to the side of my car,
Saying, "Brakeman, please tell me, if it lies in your power.
Is there a 'scaped convict on this long Red Ball?
I'm hunting a convict who escaped those Stone Walls." *
7 "That is not my job, sir, you may plainly understand; I'm only a brakeman, I'm no convict man.
Go forth and you'll find him, place it on your records: No trainmen hunt convicts or fool with rewards."
* The last two lines repeat the melody of the two preceding.
8 I dumb back on top, boys, and I waved them to go, A-watchin' my signal conductor below, A-wavin' so skillful, the brakeman's high ball, And I left the lone cop on the streets of Stone Walls.
9 My song is now ended, Pll bid you adieu, My song is now ended, Pll bid you farewell -y My song is now ended, Pll bid you farewell, To enjoy a heaven instead of a cell.
WE DON'T GET NO JUSTICE HERE IN ATLANTA
e. No. 263. Negro man, State Penitentiary, Milledgeville, Ga., 1934.
"My cell is mighty cold, suh} And the rain passes through, My chains are a-clankin} And Pm feeling mighty blue"
Oh, we don't get no justice here in Atlanta,
Oh, we don't get no justice here in Atlanta,
For if you say the law ain't right,
In the jail you'll spend the night.
We don't get no justice here in Atlanta.
Oh, if you say the judge ain't right.
In the jail you'll spend the night,
We don't get no justice here in Atlanta,
Oh, we don't get no justice here in Atlanta,
If you say the judge ain't right,
In the gang you'll stay all night,
You don't get no justice here in Atlanta.
THE REEK AND THE RAMBLING BLADE
e'b. No. 872. Mrs. Emma Dusenberry> Mena, Ark., 1936. By courtesy of Lawrence Powell and Sidney Robertson. See Co, p. 2155 Be, p. 136.
1 I am a reek and a rambling one, From the eastern shores I've lately come To learn my book, to learn my trade, Some calls me the reek and the rambling blade.
2 I come here spending money free, A-spending money at balls and plays, At last my money grew very low And then to roving I did go.
3 I married me a handsome wife, A girl I loved dear as my life;
To keep her dressed so neat and gay. It caused me to rob on this highway.
4 I robbed old Nelson, I do declare, I robbed him on St. James' Square,
I robbed him of five thousand pounds, Dividing with the comrades round.
5 But now I am condemned to die, A-many a lady for me cry;
Pretty Molly weeps, tears down her hair, A lady alone left in despair.
6 My father weeps, he maketh moan. My mother cries her darling son, But all the weeping won't help me Or save me from the gallows tree.
7 Now I am dead, laid in my grave, The final joy creeps over my head.
All around my grave play tunes of joy— Away goes a reek and the rambling boy.
WHEN FIRST TO THIS COUNTRY A STRANGER I CAME
4?b, No. 6$ Ace. on guitar and sung by Foy Gant and Mrs. Gant, Austin, Texas, 1935.
1 When first to this country a stranger I came,
I courted a fair maid, and Nancy was her name.
2 I courted her for love, her love I didn't obtain; Do you think Pve any reason or right to complain?
3 I rode to see my Nancy, the pride of my life,
I courted dearest Nancy, my own heart's true delight.
4 I rode to see my Nancy, I rode both day and night,
Till I saw a fine gray horse, both plump-looking and white.
5 The sheriff's men, they followed and overtaken me, They carted me away to the penitentiary.
6 They opened the door and then they shoved me in, They shaved my head and cleared off my chin.
7 They beat me and they banged me, they fed me on dry beans. Till I wished to my own soul I'd never been a thief.
8 With my hands in my pockets, my cap put on so bold, With my coat of many colors, like Jacob's of old.
5jc * *
"Jesse James was shot while he was wiping the dust of the picture of his faithful horse. It was the first time he had ever taken his pistols off in his life} and when Ford shot him he fell with his hand on his gun, I had his life in a hook once but a couple of summers ago I lent it to a moonshiner from the South—a hell of a nice feller. Welly he had to ftyy and he never has returned it. There was another old song} tooy that went something like l Jesse James/
"He climbed the ladder, he faced the wall} And with a ball from a senet young Frazier he felly He raised his right hand ufon his left breast And then young Billy Frazier he breathed his last breath,yy
BRENNAN ON THE MOOR (An Irish Ballad)
G. No. 1636. Ace. on guitar and sung- by Blaine Stub-blefield, Washington, D.C. (version from Oregon), 1938. See Sh, 2:170; Ma, p, 309.
I About a fierce highwayman my story I will tell, His name was Willie Brennan and in Ireland he did dwell, It was upon King's Mountain he began his wild career, And many a rich gentleman before him shook with fear/ Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
Chorus:
Brennan on the moor,
Bold, gay, and undaunted, stood young Brennan on the moor.
2 A brace of loaded pistols he carried night and day.
But he never robbed a poor man all on the King's Highway; He robbed from the rich like Dick Turpin and Sam Bass, And he always divided with the widows in distress, Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
3 He robbed a noted peddler by the name ot Juley Ponds, And they traveled on together till day began to dawn,
When the peddler found his money gone, likewise his watch and chain. He at once assaulted Brennan, and he robbed him back again, Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
4 When Brennan found the peddler was as good a man as he, He took him on the King's Highway, companion for to be ; The peddler threw his package away without any more delay, And he proved a faithful com-er-ade until his dying day, Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
5 It was upon King's Mountain, as Brennan he sat down,
He met the Mayor of Moorland, three miles outside of town, The Mayor he knew Brennan, and, "I think," says he, a Your name is Willie Brennan, you must come along with me," Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
6 Brennan's wife was going downtown some provisions for to buy, When she saw her Willie taken, she began to weep and cry; Said he, "Hand me that tenpenny," and, as soon as Willie spoke, She handed him a blunderbuss from underneath her cloak,
Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
7 Now Brennan got his blunderbuss, my story I'll unfold, He caused the Mayor to tremble and deliver up his gold; Five thousand pounds were offered for his apprehension there, But Brennan and the peddler to the mountains did repair, Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
8 Now Brennan he is an outlaw all on some mountain high, With infantry and cavalry to take him they did try;
He laughed at them and scorned them until, it was said, By a false-hearted woman he was cruelly betrayed, Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
9 In the county of Tipperary in a place called High Moor, Where Brennan and his comrades, it's they had suffered sore; They lay upon the green grass that grew upon the field, And nine wounds they did receive before they would yield, Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
10 Now, Brennan, he is taken, in strong irons he is bound, Straightaway they marched him, high walls him did surround; When the jury found him guilty the Judge made this reply,
"For robbing on the King's Highway you are both condemned to die," Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
11 "Farewell, my dear wife, and likewise my children three, And my poor old father who may shed tears for me,
And my poor old mother who will wring her hands and cry, Saying, <I wish, Willie Brennan, in the cradle you had died.' " Oh, it's Brennan on the moor.
Chorus:
Brennan on the moor,
Bold, gay, and undaunted, stood young Brennan on the moor.
THE WILD COLONIAL BOY (A ballad from Australia)
c. No. 2359. John Norman, Mimising, Mich., 1938. See Ma, p. 3175 Ga.2, p. 337.
"No, siry I do not know where I found this song. I heard it years and years ago, way hack workin} around the [lumber} camps somewhere} and then a brother of mine used to sing it, and I picked it up from him. I didn't know any Australians to work in the woods myself, just a few women in town% that's all."
1 There was a wild colonial boy, Jack Dollin was his name, He was borned in Dublin City, not so far from Castlemagne, He was his father's only son, his mother's pride and joy, So dearly did those parents love their wild colonial boy.
2 At the early age of sixteen years he started his wild career, His courage being undewanted,* no danger did he fear.
He robbed the rich to help the poor, he shot down Mackleroy, Who trembling gave his gold up to this wild colonial boy.
3 At the early age of eighteen years he left his happy home And to Australia's happy land he were inclined to roam 3 He robbed the wealthy squires, their farms he did destroy, A terrier to Australia was this wild colonial boy.
4 One day across the prairie as Jack he rode along
A-listening to the mocking birds as they sang their e-ven-ing song, He spied three mounted policemen, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy, They were called out to capture him, the wild colonial boy.
5 "Surrender now, Jack Dollin, you see there's three to one,
We arrest you in the Queen's name, for you're a plundering son." He drew a pistol from his side, made to them this reply, "I'll fight but never surrender," said this wild colonial boy.
6 He fired a shot at Kelly which fetched him to the ground, While with a shot from Davis' pistol he received a fatal wound, When a bullet pierced his brave young heart from the pistol of Fitzroy, And that's the way they captured him, this wild colonial boy.
Our Singing Country
THE VANCE SONG
g. No. 1592. Unck Branch Higgins, 85 years old, Salyersville, Ky., 1937. Note from Cox, p. 207. See Co, p. 189.
"Some hundred years ago, Abner Vance} a Baptist preacher} was hanged at Abingdony Virginiay for the killing of Lewis Norton, who had abused Vanceys family in his absence. Horton tried to escapey jumped on his horse, and attempted to swim across a river near Vance*s house. Vance got his gun and shot him while he was fording the river. After conviction, Vance lay in prison for some time} during which he made a ballad about himself. From the prison window he looked out and saw them erect the scaffold and make the coffin upon which he stood on the day of his execution and preached his own funeral sermon. His son-in-law, Frank Brownings was present, and Vance asked him to turn his back when the trap should fall. A reprieve had been granted the doomed man, but the men who had him in charge hanged him a jew minutes before it arrived."
i Bright shines the sun on Clinch's Hill, So soft the west wind blows, The valleys are lined with the flowers gay. Perfumed with the wild rose.
2 Green are the woods through which Sandy flows, Peace dwells in the land,
The bear doth * live in the laurel green, The red buck roves the hills.
3 But Vance no more on Sandy behold, Nor drink its crystal waves,
The partial judge announced his doom, The hunters found his grave.
4 There's Daniel, Bill, and Lewis, A lie against me swore,
In order to take my life away That I may be no more.
5 But I and them shall meet again When Immanuel's trumpet shall blow, Perhaps Pll be wrapped in Abraham's bosom When they'll roll in the gulf below.
6 My body it will be laid in the tomb, My flesh it will decay,
But the blood that was shed on Calvary Has washed my sins away.
7 Farewell, farewell, my old sweetheart, Your face I'll see no more,
I'll meet you in the world above Where parting is no more.
* Pronounced like "both."
THE ROWAN COUNTY CREW
d'K No. 932. Mr. and Mrs. George L. White, Grand Saline, Texas, 1937. See Cox, p. 203; Tho.2, p. 5; Co, p. 185. Note from Cox, p. 203.
"A man named Bowling was one of the men who went after Martin, whose wife happened to be visiting him at the time. They brought them back togethery but removed her before the killing occurred. Bowling just stepped up to Martin and shot him several times.
"Martin lived a mile east of Morehedd, where, some years later, a big lumber company located. Martin had two sons, lads at the time of his murder, and one of them went West. Bowling left the country, too} but after a number of years he came back. He got a job with the lumber company as an inspector of timber, and one day} while he and some others were looking at Martin's grave} which they could see from the camp, Bowling said to
them, CI shot that---------and I wish he were alive so that I could shoot
him again/
"Martin's younger son overheard the remark, went home, and tried to get his father's pistol-, but his mother would not let him have it. Then he sent a telegram to his brother out West, who came home, waited in the wood, shot Bowling, and then went back. The body was rotten before it was found. No one ever knew who shot Bowling, but really everybody knew."
—C. H. Ellis.i Come all ye young people, come fathers and mothers, too, Fll relate to you the history of the Rowan County crew, Concerning bloody Rowan and many a heinous deed, So please pay attention and listen how it reads.
2 'Twas in the month of August, 'twas on election day, Judge Martin shot and wounded, they say by Johnny Clay; But Martin wouldn't believe it and would not think it so. He thought it was Clyde Parker that shot the fatal blow.
3 Now Martin had recovered, some months had come and passed, 'Twas in the town of Morehead these fellows met at last, Parker and a friend or two along the streets did walk;
He seemed to be uneasy with no one for to talk.
4 He walked into Judge Lynn's saloon, he stepped up to the bar, He little knew that moment he'd met his fatal hour.
He seemed to see death's angels when Martin entered the door; Some words were passed between them concerning a round before.
5 The people became affrighted and rushed out of the room; A ball from Martin's pistol put Tolliver in the tomb.
His friends were gathered around him, his wife to weep and wail; Martin was soon arrested and then confined to jail.
6 Some people thought of lynching him, although the plan would fail; They put the handcuffs on him until they'd get to jail.
His mind was heavy-laden, he seemed to be in distress; They put the shackles on him, put him on the night express.
7 Along the road she rumbled all at her usual speed.
There were but two in number to commit this horrible deed; One were young and handsome and just starting to roam, He placed the fireman near and bid him not to move.
8 John Martin was in the smoking car accompanied by his wife; They did not wish her present when they took her husband's life. They walked up to John Martin with pistols in their hands;
In death he soon was sinking, he died in iron bands.
9 His wife had gone to another car, she heard the horrible sound; She cried aloud, "They've killed him! I heard the pistol fire!" The death of these two men had caused trouble in our land, Caused men to leave their families and take the parting hand.
io They shot and killed the deputy sheriff, Bumgartner was his name, They shot him from the bushes with cool deliberate aim. The death of him was horrible, 'twill never be forgot; His body was torn and bleeding with forty-four buckshot.
ill composed this as a warning, so now beware, young men, Your pistols will bring you trouble, on this you may depend. For in the bottom of a whisky glass a lurking demon dwells, 'Twill burn the breath of those who drink and send their souls to hell
HARVEY LOGAN
d. No. 1548. Jimmie Morris, Hazard, Ky., 1937.
"Billy the Kid was to have had his neck stretched today. But since he has taken French leave from the Lincoln County jail} the matter has been indefinitely fostfoned"
—Las Cruces, New Mexico, Gazette} May 13, 1881.
i On one Saturday evening Just around the hour of two, Harvey Logan and his partner Was playin' a game of pool, O my babe, my honey babe.
2 They was playin' for the money, And the money wouldn't go right, And that's when old Harvey Logan Got into a fight,
O my babe, my honey babe.
3 ,The police heard the racket And the billets they did break; Harvey Logan gave 'em a contest With a smokin' .38,
O my babe, my honey babe.
4 They took him down to Knoxville And they locked him in the jail. Because he was a stranger
No one would go his bail, O my babe, my honey babe.
5 Put the guards before him,
And marched him down the stairs 3 Said, "All I want in this wide world Is the jailer's big fine mare," O my babe, my honey babe.
6 "Harvey, now, Harvey,
You know you're doin' me wrong." Says, "Hush up your cryin', boy, An' put that saddle on," O my babe, my honey babe.
7 He rode across the bridge.
An' he rode down through the gate; He said, "I'd better be makin3 time, The night is growin5 late," O my babe, my honey babe.
8 He rode across the bridge. And he looked up at the sky;
He said, "Pd better be makin5 time, The night is drawin' nigh," O my babe, my honey babe.
9 He rode down the lane,
And he rode right through the gate, He said, "Goodbye, old Tennessee, Pm headin' for another state," O my babe, my honey babe.
DUPREE
d. No. 713. Tune from Walter Roberts, Raiford, Fla., 1936. Text from Lang-ston Hughes, who heard it in Cleveland in 1936. See Od.2, pp. 56 if. and p. 123.
i Betty told Dupree, "Daddy, I want a 'diamond ring," O my Lawd,
Betty told Dupree, "Daddy, I want a diamond ring," O my Lawd, Dupree told Betty, "You can have most anything."
2 He said, "Lay down, little bitty Betty, see what tomorrow bring, Lord, it may bring sunshine and it may bring a diamond ring."
3 Dupree was a bandit, he was so brave and bold,
He stoled a diamond ring, for some of Betty's jelly roll.
4 So Dupree went to town with a .45 in his hand 3
He went after jewelry, but he got the jewelry man.
5 He said, "Look here, Mr. Jewelry Man, won't you show me a diamond,
please, Because my little bitty Betty want to give her poor heart ease."
6 Dupree hired a taxi, went to Memphis, Tennessee,
Dupree axed the taxi driver, "Wonder will they hang poor me?"
7 Then he went to Chicago, and he was no scary man 3
He had a forty-five in his bosom and a Colt kickin' in his hand.
8 Then he shot one big cop, Lawd, and wounded several more. One fell to his knees cryin', "Please don't shoot me no more."
9 Then he went to the post office to get his evening mail,
But they caught poor Dupree, Lordy, and put him in Atlanta jail.
10 Dupree said to the judge, Lawd, "I ain't been here before."
Judge said, "I'm gonna break your neck, Dupree, so you can't come here no more."
11 Dupree tol' the lawyer, "Clear me if you can,
For I have money to back me, sure as Pm a man!"
12 The lawyer toP Dupree, aYou are a very brave man. But I think that you will go to jail and hang."
13 Dupree's mother said to Betty, "Looky here what you done done— Cause my boy to rob and steal and now he's gonna be hung."
14 So Betty weeped and she moaned till she broke out with sweat, Said, she moaned and she weeped till her clothes got soppin'-wet.
15 Betty brought him coffee, I swear she brought him tea,
She brought him all he needed but that big oP jailhouse key.
16 It was early one mornin' just about the break o' day, They had him testifying and this is what I heard him say.
17 Dupree toP the judge, "I'm not so brave and boP, But all I wanted was Betty's jelly roll."
18 The judge reared back in his great old cheer,
Well, the judge told Dupree, "There ain't no mercy here."
19 "Give pappy my clothes, oh, give poor Betty my shoes,
And if anybody asks you, tell 'em I died with the heartbreakin' blues."
20 So they led him to the scaflFold with a black cap over his face. Some lonesome graveyard's poor Dupree's restin' place.
21 The choir followed behind him singin' "Nearer My Gawd to Thee." Poor Betty she was cryin', "Have mercy on Dupree."
22 Betty said to the hearst driver, "Buddy, drive yo' dead wagon slow, You got my man, and he can't come back no mo'.!'
23 "Sail on, sail on, sail on, Dupree, sail on.
Don't mind you sailin', but you'll be gone so dog-gone long."
BUGGER BURNS
No record. John T. Vance, Washington, D. C, 1939.
This companion piece for "Brady and Duncan" was furnished us, words, music and note, by John Vance, Chief of the Law Division of the Library of Congress, who has been known to forget his dress suit when he caught a train, but never his guitar. Mr. Vance says:
"I first heard this song along about i8q4 in an alley behind my house on South Upper Street in Lexington, Kentucky, There was a little barrelhouse in there where the Negroes congregated on Saturdays, and one of their favorite songs was this ^Bugger Burns3 thing. They used to pick it out on the banjo} long before 'Frankie and Johnnyy or the blues or any of these cocaine songs ever were heard in that part of the country.
"Years later I tried to sing it and could only recall a few stanzas, so I wrote to Lexington to get more stanzas. Sam Johnson, a Negro barber, sent me four or five I didn't have, with the following note:{Bugger Burns was a policeman in Louisville who had shot and killed several men. Finally a colored man by the name of Danny Major killed him and made his getaway, and the colored folks made up a song about it. There is no words and music to this song.y"
* The singer of this song states that the two refrains can be alternated at will in succeeding stanzas. Occasionally, stanza 2 is used as a chorus.
i Bugger Burns has gone to rest,
With a forty-four calena * in his breast. Awe} babey honey, ytain} no lie.
2 'Tain' no lie, babe, 'tain5 no lie,
They done shot Bugger Burns on the Fourth of July, Pm talkin? 'bout that bad Bugger Bums.
3 They took ol5 Bugger down de dusty road, His mouth wide open and his eyes was closed.
4 If you don't believe ol5 Buggerboo's dead, Jus5 look at that hole in Buggerboo's head.
5 Jus5 after Danny'd made his play,
He went to town and made his gitaway.
6 Dan lef5 Louisville 'bout half past one,
An' he reached Chattanooga by the settin' of the sun.
7 When Mrs. Burns heard Bugger was dead, Well, she went right upstairs and dressed in red.
8 Bugger went to heaven, feelin5 like a saint, Said he was an angel, St. Peter says, "You ain't."
9 Gabriel looked him over, he didn5 look so well, He sent ol5 Bugger right down to hell.
io I heard a big noise under the ground,
It must 5a5 been Bugger Burns a-goin5 down.
11 If Bugger Burns was a brother of mine, I'd kill that bastard and serve my time.
* Caliber.
DUNCAN AND BRADY
i Duncan, Duncan was a-tendin' the bar When in walked Brady with a shinin' star 3 Cried, "Duncan, Duncan, you are under arrest!" And Duncan shot a hole in Brady's breast.
2 Brady, Brady cried his level best, "Duncan, don't kill me, you've got me best." * Duncan says, "Brady, if I got you best,
You'll hear this forty-four pop in Brady's breast."
3 Brady, Brady had a forty-five, Said it would shoot a half a mile. Duncan, Duncan had a forty-four, And that's what laid poor Brady low.
4 Brady fell down on the barroom floor,
Cried, "Please, Mr. Duncan, don't you shoot no more!"
The women cried, "Oh, ain't it a shame,
He's shot King Brady—gonna shoot him again!"
5 "Brady, Brady, Brady, don't you know you done wrong? You broke in my grocery when my game was going on, Knockin' down the windows and a-tearin' down doors, Now you're layin' dead on my grocery floor."
6 "Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, give me my hat." "No, my child, I can't do that,
Wrap this shawl up around yo' head, Go an' see if yo' papa is dead."
7 Mrs. Brady was at home in bed,
When she got the telegram Brady was dead. "Chillun, chillun, put yore hats on yore head, An' let's go see if old King Brady is dead."
* You've got the drop on me.
8 "Brady, Brady, why didn't you run,
When you saw that Duncan had a forty-four gun? Oh, Brady, Brady, Brady, you oughter have run; You hadn't oughter faced that Gatling gun!"
9 His wife came in in a mighty flirt, Wiped up the blood with her underskirt. "Hush, my children, and don't you cry,
We'll all draw a pension when your daddy die."
10 The womens all heard that poor Brady was dead, They goes back home and they dresses in red, Come a-slippin' an' slidin' up and down the street In their big Mother Hubbards and their stockin' feet.
BATSON
c. No. 95. Ace. on guitar and sung by Stavin' Chain, Lafayette, La., 1934.. Fiddle and guitar accompaniment.
Stavin' Chain said that this long, shuffling, and bloody story—whose tune and stanza form are evidently derived from "Frankie and Johnny"— concerns a Lake Charles, Louisiana, murder. Batson, he told us, was a white day laborer, accused of murdering his employer, Mr. Earle, along with his whole family. They were found in an open field with only a little red soil thrown over their bodies. Inquiry fails to confirm Stavin' Chain's story3 but no one who has ever heard him sing this wailing song with his guitar, at times beating a solemn dirge and then shrieking in hopeless despair can ever forget it. You've seen and felt a hanging. You notice, too, that the sympathies of the ballad singer rest wholly with the accused, not with his victims.
1 Batson been working for Mr. Earle Six long years today,
And ever since he been working for Mr. Earle, He never have got a pay.
Crying "Oh, Mamma, I didn't done the crime."
2 Batson asked Mr. Earle, Can he take a walk,
Mr. Earle answered Batson, "You can go and come right back."
3 Batson hitched up Mr. Earle's Two bay horse and a wagon, Took it back uptown
To get him a load of feed.
4 When he got back to the house, Onhitched those two bay mares, And he walked on back uptown, See something he really liked.
5 He was walking down Ryan Street Looking down in the showcase, He thought he had something, Something what he really need.
6 'Bout the time he was looking in the showcase Here come Mr. Henry Reese,
Mr. Sheriff, police come a-walking, Throwed two forty-fives in his face.
7 Mr. Henry Reese's deputy come a-runnin', Slapped him across the face,
Says, "Stick 'em up, Batson,
For we constitute you under arrest."
8 Batson asked Mr. Henry Reese, "What you arresting me for?" Says, "That's all right, Batson, You know all about it yourself."
9 'Rested poor little Batson, They took him to the county jail, And then the people begin to gather From miles and miles around.
ro When Batson got in the jailhouse Locked up in the place, He took a pencil right in his hand He marked every day he laid.
11 Batson told Mr. Sheriff, "Don't you know that's wrong?
You got me charged guilty unfriendly, And I know I ain't done the crime."
Cryin', "Oh, Mamma, I never harm no one."
12 Batson begin to cry, Tell you what he did do,
You could hear old Batson crying Just like a baby child.
13 The day Batson cried, This is the words he said, "You're trying me for murder, And I know I never harmed no one.
14 Well, the judge found him guilty, The clerk he wrote him down, The jurymen passed the sentence, Poor Batson, he had to be hung.
15 Batson begin to wonder, Batson begin to moan, Batson told his people,
"You just have to leave your home.
16 "You may bring me coffee, You may bring me tea,
You got to bring me everything I want 'Cept that black jailhouse key."
17 "Now you may dress in red, You may dress in black,
You may dress any color you want, But you'll never bring Batson back."
Batson's little girl begin to wonder, Batson's little girl begin to cry, Batson's little child begin to ask him, "Daddy, what they going to do with you?"
19 Batson's mother cried, Batson's sister cry, Batson's sister asked him, "When you coming back again?"
20 They brought poor Batson to the gallows, They brought him back to the hall, Batson asked the judge
If they going to take his life.
21 Batson asked the judge
Was they going to take his life 3 Judge asked Mr. Batson, "Haven't you done that crime?"
22 Batson begin to moan, Batson begin to groan,
Batson begin to tell those people He'd never see home no more.
23 Batson told his brother,
The day they brought him back at home, Says, "If your brother has to lose his life, I tell you what I want you to do."
24 Batson asked the sheriff,
He asked him that two, three times, Says, "All I want you to do for me, Take care of my two little girls."
25 Batson's mother cried, Batson's mother cried,
Batson's mother had tears a-running Clean out of her eyes.
26 They brought him home to the gallows, They brought him back to the jail,
He started looking around over the people, To see 'em for the last, last time.
27 They brought his coffin. The day he come to die. And he told the sheriff,
"That's the last thing Pm going to lay down.57
28 Then the priest told Batson, "Black box takes you down," Says, "Here comes your black box, You'll never rise again."
29 They put a black bonnet above his head, They put a rope right on his neck, They put handcuffs on his hands,
Balls and chains on his foot.
30 The people begin to cry, "Umm-mm-mm, Um-mmmm-mmmm,
Poor Batson he is dead and gone."
31 The clear blood run out of his eyes, Nobody they couldn't see his face,
Had a tongue stuck out out of his mouth Six inches long.
32 A rubber-tired buggy, Decorated horse,
You know they brought Batson to the graveyard, Says, they brought his family back.
33 His wife walked up to the grave, Fell down on her knees,
Says, "Lord, have mercy," Says, "Batson, are you gone?"
34 Batson's wife began to pray. Pray as hard as she could. Prayed so much until it looked like The Lord done answered her prayer.
35 I thought I heard somebody say Awhile before she left,
Says, "You're goin? leave me,
But Pll meet you some lonesome day."
36 Batson's little girl cry, Batson's little child cry, That's all he asked them people, "Take keer of them two little girls."
37 Um-mmm, Um-mmm-mmm, Um-mmm,
The tears run out of his eyes.
3 8 Think I heared somebody say, "Bye-bye, Batson, bye-bye, Bye-bye, Batson, bye-bye"— And I believe ha?s dead and gone.
PO' LAZ'US*
b to b^. No. 24.6. Tune, Judge Williams, Tucker Farm, Little Rock, Ark. Composite text from this and a number of other recorded sources. See Od.2, pp. 50 if., 90 ff.j L0.2, p. 915 also "Take This Hammer," this volume, p. 380.
1 I am going out West, partner, Way out West 'mong the robbers; I am going out West, partner. Way out West 'mong the robbers, Be a robber too,
Wo—Lawdy, be a robber too.
2 Dey was oP bad Laz'us, partner, He was a bully from a baby; He got blowed down,
Wo—Lawdy, he got blowed down.
3 OP Laz'us, he walked ony partner, Walked on the commissary counter j He walked away,
Wo—Lawdy, he walked away.
4 All de people, people, partner, They begin to start to talking "He done gone home,
Wo—Lawdy, he done gone home."
* For another tune, see American Ballads and Folk Songs. Both versions are sung- as work songs, and their connection with such songs as "Every Mail Day" and "Muley on the Mountain" is intimate.
5 Lawd, the captain told the sergeant, partner, "Go out and bring me Laz'us;
Bring him dead or alive.
Wo—Lawdy, bring him dead or alive."
6 Dat oi' sergeant, he rambled, partner, Rambled dose mountains over; Couldn't find him dere,
Wo—Lawdy, couldn't find him dere.
7 Says, he spied oP Laz'us, partner, Way in between two mountains; Blowed him down.
Wo—Lawdy, Lawdy, blowed him down.
8 Well, he shot bad Laz'us, partner, Shot him wid a great big number, Wid a four-by-five,
Wo—Lawdy, wid a four-by-five.
9 Well, they come a-draggin', partner, The po' boy back to his shanty, Right by his heels,
Wo—Lawdy, right by his heels.
io Lawd, they drug po' Laz'us, partner, One-half mile to his shanty, An' dey walked away, Wo—Lawdy, an' dey walked away.
11 Well-a, Laz'us he spoken, partner, "Partner, please turn me over Off my wounded side,
Wo—Lawdy, off my wounded side."
12 Well-a, Laz'us' ol' father, partner, He come a-cussin' and a-swearin', "Let the fool go down,
Wo—Lawdy, let the fool go down."
13 Well-a, Laz'us' oP father, partner, Said, "No better for the rascal, He's mean and bad,
Wo—Lawdy, he's mean and bad."
14 Says-a, Laz'us' oP mother, partner. She never stopped her sewing; She began to cry,
Wo—Lawdy, she began to cry.
15 She was cryin' 'bout dat trouble, partner, Trouble she'd had with Laz'us,
Four years ago,
Wo—Lawdy, four years ago.
16 Says-a, Laz'us told his sister, partner, ToP his li'P baby sister,
"Lawd, I won't live,
Wo—Lawdy, Lawdy, I won't live."
17 Well, ol' Laz'us he cried out, partner, "One more cool drink of water, Before I die,
Wo—Lawdy Lawd, before I die."
18 Says-a, "Go an' tell my, partner, Tell my Grandma Julie,
Oh, I'm goin' die,
Wo—Lawdy, Lawd, I'm goin' to die.
19 "If I live to ever, partner, Ever to make it over,
Be bad no mo',
Wo—Lawdy, be bad no mo'."
20 Lawd, the sergeant he spoken, partner, Sergeant he spoken to the captain, "Gonna lose my job,
Wo—Lawdy, gonna lose my job.
21 "Well, the reason I shot that, partner, Shot that po' boy Laz'us,
He was too bad.
Wo—Lawdy, he was too. bad."
22 Says, "Cap'n, Cap'n, partner. Don't you see Pm dyin' An5 won't come 'roun',
Wo—Lawdy, an' won't come 'roun'?"
23 "Well-a, I ain't mad about, partner, 'Bout you bio win' me down, sir 5 Lawd, that's yo' job.
Wo—Lawdy, Lawdy, that's yo' job."
24 Lawdy, we gonna bury, partner, Po' boy Laz'us Sunday morninl 'Bout nine o'clock,
Wo—Lawdy, 'bout nine o'clock.
25 Well-a, Laz'us' father, partner, He sure was hardhearted; Wouldn't say a word,
Wo—Lawdy, wouldn't say a word.
26 Well-a, Laz'us' brother, partner, He wouldn't go to th' buryin', Said, "Pm glad he's dead,
Wo—Lawdy, Lawd, Pm glad he's dead."
27 Now, ol' Laz'us' sister, partner, She couldn't go to the buryin'5 Didn't have no shoes,
Wo—Lawdy, didn't have no shoes.
(A pause—then the gang sings:)
28 Captain, did you hear about, partner, All your men gonna leave you? Well, next pay day,
Wo—Lawdy, well, next pay day.
ab. No. 1865. Tune from Camp No. i, Parchman, Miss., 1933. The air was also whistled "like a mocking bird" by a young negro convict. It seems to be a close relative of "Bad Man Ballad" in. American Ballads and Folksongs.
Nobody knows where Brady wore his "shinin' star" or in what alley saloon Duncan was bartender. You get the idea, however, that when Duncan cooled Brady's fever down with a forty-four, nobody shed tears at his funeral. In fact, it seems to have been a field day for the ladies, when old King Brady, the bullying peace officer, got "biowed down":
When the women in loway heard the news> They wrote it down in old red shoes—
Miss Scarborough has recorded versions in Texas; Odum and Johnson, fragments in Tennessee; Sandburg's and Gordon's versions mention East St. Louis specifically, and we have others from Texas. A person on a train sang it to me once the way she had heard it in a white caravan show in Kansas. The song comes, probably, from the Mississippi valley. I have made free to combine scattered stanzas so that they tell the story again the way the original may have told it.