VI. NEGRO GANG SONGS---------------------------------------------
Take This Hammer........... 380
Don't Talk About It........... 382
Didn' OF John Cross the Water on His Knees?..... 384
Marthy Had a Baby........... 385
Lord, It's All, Almost Done......... 386
Ain't Workin' Song........... 389
I Got to Roll............ 390
You Kicked and Stomped and Beat Me...... 391
Drive It On . .......... 392
O Lawd I Went Up on the Mountain....... 394
Long Summer Day........... 396
Godamighty Drag........... 398
Johnny, Won't You Ramble ?......... 400
Pauline.............. 402
Look Down That Lonesome Road........ 404
NEGRO GANG SONGS
As he made his work songs, the Negro cleared the land of the South, worked its plantations, built its railroads, raised its levees, and cut its roads. When he worked with a group of his fellows in a situation where a regular work rhythm was possible, he sang simple, highly rhythmic songs, and every ax, pick, or hoe fell on the same beat. When he picked cotton or did some other form of work in which it was not possible to adhere to a regular rhythm, his songs rose and fell with the free and swinging movement of his breathing. The words of these songs were not designed for the ear of the Lord, nor for the ear of the white boss. In them the Negro was likely to speak his free and open mind.
The songs in this section, or songs like them, were formerly sung all over the South, wherever a gang of Negroes was at work. With the coming of machines, however, the work gangs were broken up. The songs then followed group labor into its last retreat, the road gang and the penitentiary. For the state, the most profitable way of handling convicts in the South is to use them for road repair and construction, or to have them pay for their own keep by farming large plantations. These men come together from every section of the state, bringing songs—both the "sinful songs" and the spirituals—current in their communities. Some of them have been singers, migratory workers, wandering guitar pickers in the free world. These make ready recruits for the men who work in groups, and make the work go more easily by adapting its rhythm to the rhythm of a song.
In the penitentiary, therefore, Negro "sinful" music (the term often applied to any secular song) has been concentrated and preserved as nowhere else. The men are lonely and dependent on themselves for amusement and consolation. These conditions in themselves are enough to produce and nurture songs. In our visits to all the large prison camps in the South we have found songs in abundance—blues, ballads, gang songs, hollers—-colored by the melancholy solitude of prison life.
The movement of these songs varies in accord with the fast or slow rhythm of the work and with the moods of the singers. In driving a lazy mule team the song is likely to be mournful, while wood-cutting evokes
spirited and gay tunes. The Negro sings, even under the hard regime of penitentiary life. In fact some of the most notable of his folk songs seem to have grown there.
"If you don* sing, you sho} git worried"
# # *
Fs worked all summer arU Fs worked all fall, Den I hatter to take Christmas in my overalls.
TAKE THIS HAMMER
a to b). No. 726. Clifton Wright and gang, Richmond, Va., 1936. Other stanzas from Ga., Ala., N.C., and Fla. See Od.2, pp. 105, 112, 1203 L0.2, p. 84, p. 91$ Whi, p. 2595 Hu, p. 327.
I / went to the captain with my hat in my hand,— <(Woncha f lease have mercy on a long-time man?" "Cain* fick no cotton, cain* full no com, Ainy got no business on this man}s farm"
2 Take this hammer, (huh!) carry it to the captain, (huh!) Take this hammer, (huh!) carry it to the captain, (huh!) Take this hammer, (huh!) carry it to the captain, (huh!) Tell him Pm gone, tell him I'm gone, (huh!)
3 If he ask you (huh!) was I runnin5, (huh!) Tell him Ps flyin', tell him Ps flyin'. (huh!)
4 If he ask you (huh!) was I laughin', (huh!) Tell him Ps cryin', tell him Ps cryin'. (huh!)
5 Cap'n called me, (huh!) called me "a nappy-headed devil," (huh!) That ain't my name, that ain't my name, (huh!)
6 I don't want no (huh!) peas, cornbread, neither molasses, (huh!) They hurt my pride, they hurt my pride, (huh!)
7 I don't want no (huh!) cold iron shackles (huh!) Around my leg, around my leg. (huh!)
8 Cap'n got a big gun, (huh!) an' he try to play bad. (huh!) Go'n' take it in the mornin' if he make me mad. (huh!)
9 Pm go'n' make these (huh!) few days I started, (huh!) Then Pm goin' home, then Pm goin' home, (huh!)
DONT TALK ABOUT IT
1 July the redbird, {hanh!) redbird, Augus' the fly. (hanh!)*
If July ain't a hot month, (hanh!) hot month, I hope I may die. (hanh!)
Chorus i:
Now don't talk about it, (hanh!) 'Bout it, if you do I'll cry. (hanh!) Don't talk about it, (hanh!) 'Bout it, if you do I'll die. (hanh!)
2 Wake up in the mornin', Lawd, between four an' five, Lawd, pick an' shovel, hammer right by my side.
3 Little bit o' cabbage, yellow-belly beans, Little more corn bread, buddy, than I ever seen.
4 Some on the right o' way, buddy, some on the farm, Some in the buildin', Lawdy, an' some gone home.
5 I used to be a bully, bully, jes7 like you,
But you see what bulPin', Lawdy, has brought me to.
Chorus 2:
Now don't talk about it, (hanh!) 'Bout it, if you do I'll cry. (hanh!) Don't crowd aroun' me, (hanh!) 'Roun me, if you do I'll die. (hanh!)
* A tree-chopping song. The explosive "hanh!" comes with the ax-strokes.
D1DN' OL' JOHN CROSS THE WATER ON HIS KNEES?
b^>. No. 265. Negro convicts, Reed Camp, S.C., 1934. See Od.2, p. 193j Me, p. 154$ Jo.2, 63; also "Pauline," this volume, p. 402.
Responding to the prejudice against singing secular songs ("reels" or "sinful songs"), Negro convicts sometimes sing spirituals to the rhythm of their work. This nobly simple and restrained verse contains the text for a chapter of Negro history.
1 Didn' oP John {huh!) cross the water, water on his knees? {huh!) Didn' oP John {huh!) cross the water {huh!) on his knees? {huh!) Let us all {huh!) bow down, {huh!) good Lawd, an' face, face de risin5
sun. {huh!) DidnJ oP John {huh!) cross the water, water on his knees? {huh!)
2 Let us all sing together, 'gether on our knees. Let us all sing together on our knees.
Let us all bow down, good Lawd, an' face, face de risin' sun, Let us all sing together, 'gether on our knees.
4 Didn' ol' John wade the water, water on his knees? Didn' ol' John wade the water on his knees? Let us all bow down, good Lawd, an' face, face de risin' sun, Didn' ol' John wade the water, water on his knees?
MARTHY HAD A BABY
/ to /#. No. 693. Roscoe McLean, Florida State Penitentiary, Raiford, Fla., 1936.
r Marthy had a baby and she said 'twas mine, Marthy had a baby and she said 'twas mine, Marthy had a baby, Oo-hoo, Lordy Lord, she said 'twas mine.
2 It must have been the walker's,* 'cause it had blue eyes, (2) It must have been the walker's, Oo-hoo, Lordy Lord, she said 'twas mine.
* The "walking" boss, usually a white man.
3 The walker couldn't stand to hear the baby cry, (2) The walker couldn't stand to,
Oo-hoo, Lordy Lord, to hear him cry.
4 Oh, me an' my buddy started lopin' on down the road, (2) Oh, me an' my buddy started lopin',
Oo-hoo, Lordy Lord, on down the road.
5 Bulldog bit the devil and the devil died, (2) Bulldog bit the devil,
Oo-hoo, Lordy Lord, the devil died.
LORD, IT'S ALL, ALMOST DONE
d. No. 225. Negro convict, Wetumka, Ala., 1934. See Od.i, p. 258} BB, p. 26.
Did you boys hear What the caftain said? "If the boys work. Gonna treat you fretty welly But if you don't work. Gonna give you flenty helLy>
1 Take these stripes from, stripes from around my shoulder, huh! Take these chains, chains from 'round my leg, huh!
Say, these stripes, stripes they sure don't worry me, huh! But these chains, chains gonna kill me dead, huh!
Chorus:
Lord, it's all, almost done, huh!
Lord, it's all, almost done, huh!
Lord, it's all, almost done,
Nothin' but to bring them yallow womens over here, huh!
2 An' if it wasn't for, wasn't for my good captain, Lord, I would of, would of been gone down, By he liked, liked my hard rollin',
Then he gave me little narrow round.
3 Says, she whispered, whispered to her mother, "Mother, I can't, can't see how he stand," Says, "He ain't, ain't but sweet sixteen,
An' they drivin' him like a man."
4 Says, she carried me, carried me to her parlor, Lord, she cooled me, cooled me with her fan,
Says, she swore by, swore by the man who made her, "Mother, I do, do love a railroad man."
Variant Chorus:
Railroad man ain't got no home, Railroad man ain't got no home, Railroad man ain't got no home, Here today, Lord, tomorrow he'll be gone.
5 Well, she told me, told me that she loved me, Jus' to give my, give my po' heart ease,
Just as soon as, soon as I got in trouble, Well, she turned her, turned her back on me.
6 On Monday, Monday, I was arrested, On Tuesday locked up in jail,
On Wednesday my trial was attested, On Thursday nobody wouldn't go my bail.
7 On Friday me an' my baby was a-walkin', On Saturday she throwed me out of doors, On Sunday me an' my baby was a-talkin', On Monday she pawned all my clothes.
8 Needn't to come here, come here buckin' an' jumpin' * Lawd, you sho, sho can't stand,
Lawd, it's ol', ol' buckin' an' jumpin'
Have been the death of, death of many a good man.
* " 'Buckm' an> jumpm'' or 'buck-jumpm*» means to do field work the easy, shoddy way and to conceal this fact from your boss or your driver."
AIN'T WORKIN' SONG
d'b. No. 1336. Charley Campbell, Alabama State Docks, Mobile, Ala., 1937.
On the docks, at Mobile, Alabama, a collector of folk songs has just recorded a song by a Negro longshoreman, Charley Campbell. Collector: Was that a work song that you've just sung? Charley: Boss, this here ain't no workin" song; it's a ain't workin' song!
1 Eighteen hundred and ninety-one, 'Fore I workses, I'd ruther be hung.
2 Eighteen hundred and ninety-two,
Me an' old worksy, we done been through.
3 Eighteen hundred and ninety-three, Me and old worksy, we can't agree.
4 Eighteen hundred and ninety-four,
I lef old worksy standin' at de workhouse door.
5 Eighteen hundred and ninety-five, 'Fore I workses, I be bad lie.
6 Eighteen hundred and ninety-six,
Me an' old worksies, we business out of fix
7 Eighteen hundred and ninety-seven,
Work killed my brother and sont him to heaven.
8 Eighteen hundred and ninety-eight,
I leP old worksy standm' at de workhouse gate.
9 Eighteen hundred and ninety-nine,
I outrun worksy, and I left hit behind. Because I never liked to work-a nohow.
I GOT TO ROLL
No record. From the singing of Bess Brown Lomax and Alan Lomax, learned from Black Sampson in the Nashville Penitentiary, 1937. See Od.2, p. 101.
"When you're in prison, you can think uf anything and go to singing it. Got something on your mind, you know, and you go to singing it. On Mondays—we call that 'Blue Monday*—you ain't studyin' 'bout singing. You know you got to go all that week. Don't sing much in the mornin' 'cause you don't jeel good. When you get out there you'd be thinkin' 'bout home. Right after dinner, when they bellies full, the boys don't want to talk or sing either; they're feelin' lazy with their bellies full and that hot sun comin' down. But you got to go anyhow. But late in the evenin', you know, and along about Saturday, we'd sing. 'Long about Friday and Saturday, you know the week is all about done, and, man, you go to singing then. Down there, we call Saturday 'Christmas Eve' and Sunday 'Christmas' 'cause we know when Sunday comes we ain't gonna work. —Louisiana Negro.
i Ham and eggs, Lord, pork and beans, Well, Fd et more, but the cook wasn't clean.
Chorus:
I got to roll, roll in a hurry, Make it on the side of the road.
2 If Fd V knowed my cap'n was mean,
I never would V left St. Augustine. {Chorus.)
3 If Fd V knowed my cap'n was blind,
I wouldn't 'a' went to work till half past nine. {Chorus.)
4 If Fd 'a' knowed my cap'n was bad,
I wouldn't 'a' sold that special that I once did had. {Chorus.)
YOU KICKED AND STOMPED AND BEAT ME
/. No. 1857. Bowlegs, State Penitentiary, Parchman, Miss., 1933.
Caf}n} if I get a letter an* Mamma says} aCome home" Cafin, yo} fiat-back shotgun ain} gonna hold me long.
I Do you 'member way last summer? (3) Kind captain, on the jelly roll, sir?
2 Well, you kicked and stomped and beat me; (3) Kind cap'n, and you call that fun, sir.
3 If I catch you in my home town, (3) Goin' to make you run, sir.
DRIVE IT ON
aP. No. 245. Group of convicts, Cummins State Farm, Ark., 1934.
A gay, rollicking gang work song with a spirited tempo, interspersed with shouts of physical enjoyment, used for ax work.
Pm gonna preach to my diamond* hammer ring,
Listen what Pm gonna freach, suh, hammer ring.
If you walk, Pit drive you, hammer ring.
If you drive, Pit ride you, hammer ring,
If you lead, PU follow you, hammer ring,
Pm heavy lo—oaded, hammer ring,
Loaded with my diamond, hammer ring.
(aka JUMPIN JUDY)
girl,— oh, Lawd, [* These or other shouts accompany each stanza at this point,]
i Well-a, jumping Jumpin' Judy, (2)
Oh, Captain, was a mighty fine girl, oh, Lawd, Oh, drive it on.
2 Well-a, Judy brought de jumpin5,
Oh, Captain, to this whole round world, oh, Lawd,
3 Well, did you hear 3bout Berta Robbins, Oh, Captain, and a little Berta Lee, oh, Lawd?
4 Lawd, and both of them got 'rested,
Oh, Captain, in the down-town jail, oh, Lawd,
5 Oh, Lawd, it's one of them got six months,
Oh, Captain, and the other got a year, oh, Lawd,
6 Oh, well, you remember last winter,
Oh, Captain, when the weather was cold, oh, Lawd,
7 Oh, well, you had me way out yonder,
Oh, Captain, on that long ferry road, oh, Lawd,
8 Oh, well, you kicked and stomped and beat me, Oh, Captain, and you called it fun, oh, Lawd,
9 Well, I may meet you over in Memphis,
Oh, Captain, we're going t7 have a little run, oh, Lawd,
10 Well, yonder come Elnora,
Oh, Captain, how in the world do you know? Oh, Lawd,
11 Umberella on her shoulder,
Oh, Captain, piece of paper in her hand, oh, Lawd,
12 Well, I heard her tell the sergeant,
Oh, Captain, "God, I love my man," oh, Lawd,
13 Well, did you ever been dishonored?
Oh, Cap'n, and taken to the pen, oh, Lawd, Oh, Lawdy, Lawd.
14 Well, if you don't stop stealing
Oh, Captain, then you're gwine again, oh, Lawd, Oh, drive it on.
15 Well, it's every Monday mornin5.
Oh, Captain, when the iron gong ring, oh, Lawd,
16 Well, we go marchin' to the table.
Oh, Captain, find the same old thing, oh, Lawd, Oh, Lawdy, Lawd.
17 Well, if anybody asks you,
Oh, Captain, who sung this song, oh, Lawd, Oh, Lawdy, Lawd.
18 Just tell him it's three parts of devil,
Oh, Captain, that's been here and gone, oh, Lawd, Oh, Lawdy, Lawd.
O LAWD I WENT UP ON THE MOUNTAIN
a. No. 248. Group led by Kelly Page, Cummins State Farm, Ark., 1934.
What men think about in prison is "women." On Sundays they stand in the dormitories clinging to the big iron bars, they stand there looking at nothing, saying nothing, with their arms wrapped around the bars. The name of the girl they sing about in Mississippi and Arkansas nowadays is Rosie, sometimes Roxie. From Arkansas comes this tender advice to Roxie.
Roxie} Roxie} if you were mine}
You wouldn* do nothin3 but starch any iyon.
Roxie galy you promised me, You'd never marry till I went free,
Roxie, Roxie} done ha wait on me. So long rolliny I may never go free.
Every evenin* when the sun goes downy Big leg Roxie restiny on my mind.
I was rolliny when you come along, And Pll be rolliny when you started home.
The prisoner lets out a long moan like a lonely steamboat whistle and hollers,
/ fills her focket full of stiver and her mouth full of gold. Every time I kiss her, my blood runs chilly co~o~old.
Then he remembers how lonely he is?
She said that she loved me> but she told me a lie> She hasn't been to see me} Lawd} since last July.
He remembers where he is and puts the bitterness of the prisoner into these two lines,
Ain' but the one thing worries my mind: World full of women} an' ain* nary one mine.
"O Lawd, I Went Up on the Mountain" is a compost of old blues verses and a blues tune set to the rhythm of the woodyard axes.
[* In the middle of the second stanza the men begin to double-cut, i.e., to alternate their axe strokes, which from then on occur regularly on the first beat of each measure.]
i O Lawd, I went up on the mountain, looked at the risin' sun, Hey, hey, hey, hey;
0 Lawd, I went up on the mountain, looked at the risin' sun, Hey, hey, hey.
1 says-uh, "You can't do me, oh, like Lorena done." Hey, hey, hey, hey.
2 Oh, well, she picks yo' pockets and rush you through the do', An' she say, "Hurry, big man, over yonder in West Arco."
3 "Oh, did you get that letter, I thro wed in your back yard?
I would 'a' done been to see you, yo' white folks got me barred."
4 Oh, well, just look over yonder, oh, where the sun done gone,
I says, "She's makin' her way back to where Saint Mary has gone."
5 I says, "She goes to bed with her, her head rag on her head,"
I says, "You ask her how about it, she'll swear she's almost dead."
6 Oh, well, it's T for Texas, it's T for Tennessee,
I says, "It's T for the woman that thinks a world of me."
7 O Lawd, I went to the graveyard, looked in my rider's face, I says, "I wished to good Lawd she's in another place."
8 O Lawd, my feets all muddy, and it's pourin' down rain,
O Lawd, my woman's down in Cummins, I love her just the same.
LONG SUMMER DAY
a to b^. No. 196. Clear Rock, Sugar Land and Taylor, Texas, 1933.
Me an? my pardner an? my fardner's frien? Can "pick mc? cotton than a gin can gin.
Me any my fardner can pick a baley
Can pick mo} cotton than de scales can weigh.
Me any my fardner an* two or three mo? Can pick moy cotton than a boat can hold.
[* Remaining stanzas may be sung to the tune either of stanza i or of stanza 2.]
1 Long summer day makes a white man lazy, Long summer day,
Well, a long summer day makes a white man lazy, Long summer day.
2 Well, a long summer day make a nigger run away, sir, Long summer day,
Well, a long summer day make a nigger run away, sir, Long summer day.
3 Well, a-pickin' that cotton in the bottom field, sir, Long summer day,
Well, it's gatherin' up the cotton in the bottom field, sir, Long summer day.
4 Well, he run away to see Miss Mary, Long summer day,
Well, he run right away to see his baby, Long summer day.
5 Well, the white man sont and got him a doctor, etc.
6 Well, "Go back to the field, you got no fever," etc.
7 Well, the summer day makes a nigger feel lazy, etc.
GODAMIGHTY DRAG
From the singing- of Alan Lomax, learned from Augustus Haggerty and group of Negroes. Huntsville Penitentiary, Texas, 1934.
His nickname was Track Horse, and he's dead now. His body was a thick wedge of strength that could tie a rainbow round his shoulder * all day under the hot broiling sun, and he had the voice of a lead man for both work songs and spirituals. The lead man has to have a strong carrying voice, but most of all he has to dare to thrust out ahead of the rhythm with his verse lines so that the refrain bursts out of the gang like beer out of a bunghole.
In his "Godamighty Drag"—"drag" here meaning a hot, syncopated tempo—each prisoner tells his own story. When one leader slacks his singing, another prisoner speaks his individual mind, and the group roars assent —"Wo, Lawdy!"—as if to say, "That's true for you and the same damn thing happened to me."
"I" and "me" in the Negro work songs, blues, and hollers are always thus expressions of the feeling of the Negro community as well as of the individual who is singing. The first person singular means, "I, the Negro woman or man"—not self-consciously so, but because, as the song passes from one singer to another with its burden of common experience, it can invisibly and immediately belong to the individual singer. The melodic and literary forms involved are so universally familiar that the material can be remolded with facility by each victim of "the blues." The root of this communal quality is the community tragedy in the life of the Southern Negro.
* * #
Look over yonder where the sun done gone} It may be a cemeteryy but it's my home,
* * * * The shimmering arc of the whirling axe.
i Mamma and Papa, Wo-ho, Lawdy, Mamma and Papa, Godamighty God knows, Done to? me a lie, suh, Wo, Lawdy, Done to? me a lie, suh, Wo~ho, my Lawd.
2 Done told me they'd pardon
me,* Well, next July, suh.
3 June, July, and August, Done come an? gone, suh.
4 Left me here rolling On this oP farm, suh.
5 When Hannah t go to beaming Make you think about your
mamma.
6 When the boys go to steamin', Make a nigger run away, suh,
7 Oh, me an' my pardner, We went to the Brazis.
8 And he could not swim, suh, And he could not swim.
9 I crossed him over, On a live-oak limb.
io Ride, old dog-man,
You better ride, old dog-man.
11 When the Brazis was risin', Riley walked the water.
* Each couplet to be expanded as in the first stanza, t The sun.
JOHNNY, WON'T YOU RAMBLE?
G, g. No. 190. Lightning and a group of convicts, Darrington State Farm, Texas, 1934.
Said by Texas convicts to be one of the oldest songs on the Colorado River, this song seems to have had its origin in the days of slavery. It shows that the Negroes looked neither at slavery nor at their masters through rose-colored glasses.
Moderately fast J =63
i Well, I went down in Hell-town To see the Devil chain down, Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe.
2 OP Massa an' oP missis Settin' in the parlor, Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe. Jus' fig'in, an3 a plannin' How to work a nigger harder, Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe.
3 OP Massa's gonna kill a little Bitty oP fattenin' calf, Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe.
When the bullies heard they gonna kill him, You oughta seen them try to laugh, Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe.
4 OP Mistis gonna kill the bully's Little bitty red Jersey bull, Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe.
OP Mistis told old Massa
That "it'll give the bullies a bellyful,"
Johnny, won't you ramble?
Hoe, hoe, hoe.
5 I looked up on the hill And spied old Massa ridin', Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe.
Had a bull whip in one hand, A cowhide in the other, Johnny, won't you ramble, Hoe, hoe, hoe.
6 Pocketful of leather strings To tie your hands together, Johnny, won't you ramble, Hoe, hoe, hoe.
"OP Massa, don't you whip me, I'll give you half a dollar," Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe.
7 "No, no, bully boy,
I'd rather hear you holler." Johnny, won't you ramble? Hoe, hoe, hoe. L bis
PAULINE
/. No. 176. Allen Prothero, Tennessee Penitentiary, Nashville, Tenn., 1933. See "Didn5 OP John Cross the Water on His Knees?", p. 384.
In the Nashville penitentiary Allen Prothero, a Negro convict from Chattanooga, sang "Pauline" in tones as clear as a silver trumpet. White friends interested themselves in his case, but the Governor's parole found Allen Prothero dead from tuberculosis—"galloping consumption." This song will stand as a monument to him. It shows its kinship with a whole school of work songs,* but it is his own highly individual rearrangement and, we think, one of the tenderest, most delicate love songs that ever came out of a huraan throat.
What's in a name? These names—Frankie, Rosie, Roxie, Jumpin5 Judy, Hattie Bell, Eadie, Marthy, Julie Ann, and Pauline—these women, the heroines of Negro work songs, will live as long as there are lovers of folk melodies.
* Cf. "Dicta' OP John Cross the Water," etc.
Stanzas:
1 Lawd, Pm goin' to my shanty, Pm gonna lie down, Lawd, Pm goin' to my shanty, Pm go'n' lie down, Well, it's oh, Lawdy me, well, it's trouble I do see, Lawd, Pm goin' to my shanty, Pm gonna lie down.
2 Lawd, Pm goin' back home to Pauline, (2)
Well, Pm goin' back home, well, Pm goin' to lie down,
You been a long, long time 'bout makin' it up, Lawd, in yo' min'.
3 Lawd, I walked and I cried all night long, (2) Lawd, it's oh, Lawdy me, Lawd, it's trouble I do see,
You been a long, long time 'bout makin' it up, Lawd, in yo' min'.
4 Pm gonna write one mo' letter, gonna write no mo', (2) Well, it's oh, Lawdy me, well, it's trouble i do see, You been a long, long time 'bout makin' it up, Lawd, in yo' min\
LOOK DOWN THAT LONESOME ROAD
/. No. 267. Group of convicts. Reed Prison Camp, Boykin, S.C., 1934. See Sc.i, p. 735 Od.2, p. 46. The popular version is copyrighted by Nathaniel Shilkret, N. Y., 1928.
i Look down, look down That long, lonesome road, Where you and I, I must go. 2 Stand back, stand back, All you five-and-ten-cent men, Got a man knockin' on, On yo' door.
3 Hattie Bell, Hattie Bell, Oh, she my own, own true love, Darlin', what have, Have I done?
/ been up and down this river from end to endy Ainyt found no heaven nowhere I been.