One of the most interesting of all the Negro’s secular songs is the folk minstrel type. This minstrel song is similar to the original minstrel, in which one or more wandering musicians and songsters travel from place to place rendering song and music with varied accompaniments. Sometimes one singer goes alone, sometimes two, sometimes a quartette. They are entertainers in the real sense that they exhibit themselves and their art with all the naturalness and spontaneity possible. Furthermore, such minstrels are not infrequently ingenious in composing new verses and adapting them to old tunes or to newly discovered ones. Such songs are also well adapted to social gatherings and to various special occasions. They should be distinguished from the black-face type of vaudeville song and the minstrel show, although of course the song of the traveling show must inevitably influence the minstrel type a great deal. For sheer type-portraiture, however, the minstrel Negro and his song must undoubtedly be presented if the whole picture is to be complete.

Typical scenes are the singing on special gala occasions, such as fairs, holidays, and picnics, at resorts of the whites, on the road or on street corners. Such singers also accompany many a patent-medicine man or other street-corner vender of wares. Sung in this way, of course, are many of the ordinary secular creations, but in general the minstrel type is more finished and formal, with more of rhyme and something of the ballad technique, with much of the humor and entertaining qualities implied in its kind. Most of these songs would repay special study on the part of the student of folk songs and ballads who wishes to trace origins and developments. While all the songs we have listed are Negro songs in the sense that they are sung much and regularly by Negroes, with the special artistic expression and manner common to them, they are, of course, often much mixed with similar songs originating elsewhere. In the case of It Ain’t Gonna Rain No Mo’,[77] for instance, the origin of course is a common one, and many of the scores of verses are sung alike by white and Negro minstrels, with only minor distinctions due to manner and situation. And yet of the several hundred verses which are even now extant, some are very clearly of Negro origin, exhibiting something of the Negro’s traditional phrases and his blues. A Negro quartette singing It Ain’t Gonna Rain No Mo’ is undoubtedly singing a Negro song. Among the songs in the previous volume which are adapted to the minstrel type of singing are Railroad Bill, Lilly, Stagolee, Eddy Jones,[78] and some of the more recently composed religious types.

[77] No verses of It Ain’t Gonna Rain No Mo’ are given in this volume, although our collection included several score. They are scarcely within the bounds of the present collection.

[78] See The Negro and His Songs, pp. 196, 198, 205, 228.

One of the most attractive of all the Negro songs we have heard was That Liar, sung by two elderly Negro men at Columbia, South Carolina, through the courtesy of Dr. E. L. C. Adams. The main part of the song is always chanted by the leader in recitative sing-song very much after the fashion of a sermon when the minister has reached his emotional climax. Then upon reaching the chorus, he suddenly turns into rapid song, accompanied by his companion. They sing the chorus with the usual accompaniment of “Oh” or “Lawd” or “Let me tell you.” The song, with some variations and repetitions, is good for almost an hour’s entertainment. It is also a very good shouting song.

That Liar[79]

Jes’ let me tell you how a liar will do.
Always comin’ with somethin’ new,
He’ll steal yo’ heart with false pretense,
Makin’ out like he’s yo’ bes’ frien’;
An’ when he finds out you believe what he say,
Then that liar gonna have his way.
He’ll bring you news ’bout women and men,
Make you fall out with yo’ bes’ frien’.
Chorus:
If you don’t want to get in trouble,
If you don’t want to get in trouble,
If you don’t want to get in trouble,
You better let that liar alone.
When a liar takes a notion his friends to improve,
He lay around de neighbors and git de news.
Nearly every day when you look out,
See that liar come to yo’ house,
Tell you sich lies surprise yo’ min’
An’ mix a little truth to make it shine.
An’ when he git his news fix jes’ right,
That liar gonna cause a fight.
When everything’s in perfect peace,
Here come that liar with his deceit,
Make believe that he love you so well,
Till every day he must come an’ tell.
“Let me tell you, my sister, if you jes’ knew
What a certain somebody tell me ’bout you.”
He studies up lie and tell it so smooth,
Until you think undoubtedly must be true.
He’ll bring you out to trace de tale,
An’ if you don’t mind you’ll be put in jail.
A hypocrite and liar both keep up a fuss,
Dey both very bad, but a liar’s the wuss;
He’ll come to yo’ house in powerful rush,
Say, “I can’t stay long for I must go to my work,
I jes’ come to tell you what somebody say.”
Then he’ll take a seat an’ stay all day.
He’ll tell you some things that’ll cause you to pout,
Then at las’ he’ll force you out.
He knows that he owes you, an’ if you ask him for pay,
He’ll fall out wid you and stay away.
If you don’t want to get in trouble,
If you don’t want to get in trouble,
If you don’t want to get in trouble,
You better let that liar alone.
When a liar takes a notion his friends to improve,
He lay around de neighbors and git de news.
Nearly every day when you look out,
See that liar come to yo’ house,
Tell you sich lies surprise yo’ min’
An’ mix a little truth to make it shine.
An’ when he git his news fix jes’ right,
That liar gonna cause a fight.
When everything’s in perfect peace,
Here come that liar with his deceit,
Make believe that he love you so well,
Till every day he must come an’ tell.
“Let me tell you, my sister, if you jes’ knew
What a certain somebody tell me ’bout you.”
He studies up lie and tell it so smooth,
Until you think undoubtedly must be true.
He’ll bring you out to trace de tale,
An’ if you don’t mind you’ll be put in jail.
A hypocrite and liar both keep up a fuss,
Dey both very bad, but a liar’s the wuss;
He’ll come to yo’ house in powerful rush,
Say, “I can’t stay long for I must go to my work,
I jes’ come to tell you what somebody say.”
Then he’ll take a seat an’ stay all day.
He’ll tell you some things that’ll cause you to pout,
Then at las’ he’ll force you out.
He knows that he owes you, an’ if you ask him for pay,
He’ll fall out wid you and stay away.

[79] Cf. The song given by Ballanta in his St. Helena Island Spirituals, p. 72.

Sung in very much the same way is the War Jubilee Song, itself a type of popular traveling song. It was the favorite of the same two singers, both noted songsters of the Columbia environs, and they claimed to have learned it from a traveling Negro secretary of the Y. W. C. A., who came from Florida immediately after the World War. Here again the chorus was sung with effective variations, “Now I’m so glad,” or “You know I’m so glad,” or “I declare I’m so glad,” and many others.

War Jubilee Song

When the U. S. got in de war
Wus de saddes’ day I ever saw.
Registration day began to start
An’ it come near breakin’ all mothers’ heart.
Chorus:
Now I’m so glad, I’m so glad,
Now I’m so glad, I’m so glad,
Now I’m so glad, I’m so glad
Jesus brought peace all over dis lan’.
You know, I declare,
Jesus brought peace all over dis lan’.
But God who called us here below
Tol’ de boys, “Get ready, with you I’ll go.”
Jes’ take me over in Germany lan’
An’ I will conquer every man.
When time fer train to roll,
Uncle Sam had boys under his control,
An’ when town bell begin to ring
Some tried to be happy and begin to sing.
Some from Newport News, so I am tol’,
An’ some in France where it was col’.
Jes’ carry me over in de lan’ of France
Where every soldier will have a fightin’ chance.
That vessel leave New York with thousands on board,
Steam ship carry such a heavy load.
Lawd, I’m over in very strange lan’,
Wid all soldiers walk han’ in han’.
An’ no good Christian did not fear,
’Cause Jesus Christ was engineer,
Engineer standin’ at chariot wheel
Backin’ up children on battle fiel’.
Reason why war did last so long,
So many people was livin’ wrong,
Jes’ goin’ round runnin’ down colors and race
An’ oughter been beggin’ fer little mo’ grace.
Whilst dey wus fightin’ great noise wus heard,
Smoke wus flyin’ jes’ lak a bird,
Men were dyin’ wid thousands of groans,
Now peace declared an’ boys at home.
Uncle Sam he made and signed a decree
For American nation to ben’ de knee.
God sits in Heaven an’ answers prayer,
An’ dey had to stop fightin’ over there.
We put ourselves as debt to God,
We say we’d follow where he trod,
But de way got dark and we couldn’t see
Jes’ who de winner of war would be.
But de Christians prayed until dey cried,
Hypocrite say dat dey had lied.
But in deir heads dey had a doubt,
But when peace was declared, Lawd, dey wanted to shout.
But God who called us here below
Tol’ de boys, “Get ready, with you I’ll go.”
Jes’ take me over in Germany lan’
An’ I will conquer every man.
When time fer train to roll,
Uncle Sam had boys under his control,
An’ when town bell begin to ring
Some tried to be happy and begin to sing.
Some from Newport News, so I am tol’,
An’ some in France where it was col’.
Jes’ carry me over in de lan’ of France
Where every soldier will have a fightin’ chance.
That vessel leave New York with thousands on board,
Steam ship carry such a heavy load.
Lawd, I’m over in very strange lan’,
Wid all soldiers walk han’ in han’.
An’ no good Christian did not fear,
’Cause Jesus Christ was engineer,
Engineer standin’ at chariot wheel
Backin’ up children on battle fiel’.
Reason why war did last so long,
So many people was livin’ wrong,
Jes’ goin’ round runnin’ down colors and race
An’ oughter been beggin’ fer little mo’ grace.
Whilst dey wus fightin’ great noise wus heard,
Smoke wus flyin’ jes’ lak a bird,
Men were dyin’ wid thousands of groans,
Now peace declared an’ boys at home.
Uncle Sam he made and signed a decree
For American nation to ben’ de knee.
God sits in Heaven an’ answers prayer,
An’ dey had to stop fightin’ over there.
We put ourselves as debt to God,
We say we’d follow where he trod,
But de way got dark and we couldn’t see
Jes’ who de winner of war would be.
But de Christians prayed until dey cried,
Hypocrite say dat dey had lied.
But in deir heads dey had a doubt,
But when peace was declared, Lawd, dey wanted to shout.

One of the most entertaining songs in all the repertoire of the Negro’s aggregate creations is Mr. Epting, sung by four Negro pick-and-shovel men with such zest and harmony as we have rarely heard. It is apparently a parody on the war song Good Morning, Mr. Zip, and with this particular quartette of workers would make a hit on any stage. In the singing, the largest member of the group dances a jig and exclaims in his big bass voice, “Lawd, Lawd, I feels funny when I sings this song. Lawd, Lawd, I can’t keep still, it gives me such a funny feelin’. Whoopee! Singin’ ’bout white man gives me funny feelin’.” In addition to the verses sung here the singer may substitute for whiskey and cocaine such words as gun, woman, policeman, work, and other forces which may be calculated to lead to the demise of these slanderers of Mr. Epting.

Good Morning, Mr. Epting

Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just nappy as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Well, ashes to ashes,
Well, dust to dust,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just nappy as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just kinky as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Well, ashes to ashes,
Well, dust to dust,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just kinky as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just as black as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Well, if whiskey don’t kill me,
Well, cocaine must,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just black as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just black as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Pistol don’t kill me,
Well, cocaine must,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just as black as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just short as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Well if whiskey don’t kill me,
Well, cocaine must,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just as short as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just kinky as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Well, ashes to ashes,
Well, dust to dust,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just kinky as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just as black as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Well, if whiskey don’t kill me,
Well, cocaine must,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just black as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just black as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Pistol don’t kill me,
Well, cocaine must,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just as black as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just short as mine.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
You belong to the K. K. kind.
Well if whiskey don’t kill me,
Well, cocaine must,
Show me a woman
That you can trust.
Good morning, Mr. Epting,
Your hair just as short as mine.

The old song Raise a Rukus Tonight is now a popular one in various forms, those given here representing Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina. There are many other versions and fragments, but these will suffice to indicate the type and mixture so common at present. One may easily see the similarity to the old song but also its corruption by such modern types as It Ain’t Gonna Rain No Mo’. Wring Jing, while not a “rukus” chorus, is so much of the same sort as to make its comparison of value. The other much varied and corrupted types are also valuable for comparative purposes.

Raise a Rukus Tonight
A

My ol’ master promise me,
Raise rukus tonight;
Before he died he’d set me free,
Raise rukus tonight.
Chorus:
Come along, chillun, come along,
While the moon is shining bright,
Get on board, down the river float,
’Cause we gonna raise a rukus tonight.
His hair come out and his head turned bal’,
Raise rukus tonight;
He got out o’ notion dyin’ at all,
Raise rukus tonight.
’Scuse me, mister, don’t get mad,
Raise rukus tonight;
’Cause you look like sumpin the buzzards had,
Raise rukus tonight.
Look at that nigger, ain’t he black?
Raise rukus tonight;
Got hair on his head like a carpet tack,
Raise rukus tonight.
Black cat settin’ on chimney jam,
Raise rukus tonight;
If that ain’t hot place, I’ll be damn,
Raise rukus tonight.
Way down yonder on chit’lin’ switch,
Raise rukus tonight;
Bull frog jump from ditch to ditch,
Raise rukus tonight.
Bull frog jump from bottom of well,
Raise rukus tonight;
Swore, by God, he jumped from hell,
Raise rukus tonight.
His hair come out and his head turned bal’,
Raise rukus tonight;
He got out o’ notion dyin’ at all,
Raise rukus tonight.
’Scuse me, mister, don’t get mad,
Raise rukus tonight;
’Cause you look like sumpin the buzzards had,
Raise rukus tonight.
Look at that nigger, ain’t he black?
Raise rukus tonight;
Got hair on his head like a carpet tack,
Raise rukus tonight.
Black cat settin’ on chimney jam,
Raise rukus tonight;
If that ain’t hot place, I’ll be damn,
Raise rukus tonight.
Way down yonder on chit’lin’ switch,
Raise rukus tonight;
Bull frog jump from ditch to ditch,
Raise rukus tonight.
Bull frog jump from bottom of well,
Raise rukus tonight;
Swore, by God, he jumped from hell,
Raise rukus tonight.

Raise a Rukus Tonight
B

Some folks say preacher won’t steal,
Raise rukus tonight;
I caught two in my corn fiel’,
Raise rukus tonight.
One had a bushel, one had fo’,
Raise rukus tonight;
If that ain’t stealin’ I don’t know,
Raise rukus tonight.
My ol’ missus promised me,
Raise rukus tonight;
When she died she’d set me free,
Raise rukus tonight.
She live so long ’til she got bal’,
Raise rukus tonight;
She got out notion dyin’ at all,
Raise rukus tonight.
So come along, chillun, come along,
Where moon shine bright tonight;
Get on board before boat gone,
Gonna raise rukus tonight.
My ol’ missus promised me,
Raise rukus tonight;
When she died she’d set me free,
Raise rukus tonight.
She live so long ’til she got bal’,
Raise rukus tonight;
She got out notion dyin’ at all,
Raise rukus tonight.
So come along, chillun, come along,
Where moon shine bright tonight;
Get on board before boat gone,
Gonna raise rukus tonight.

Raise a Rukus Tonight
C

Come on, niggers,
While the moon is shining bright,
Get on the boat,
Down the river we’ll float,
We’re gonna raise a rukus tonight.
Come on, little chillun,
While the moon is shining bright,
We’re gonna raise cornbread
An’ sweet potatoes tonight,
Raise rukus tonight.
My ol’ missus promised me,
Raise rukus tonight,
When she died she’d set me free.
We’re gonna raise a rukus tonight,
Gonna raise a rukus tonight.
My ol’ master promised me,
Gonna raise a rukus tonight,
When I grew to be a man
He’d give me a horse’s rein.
Gonna raise a rukus tonight.
My ol’ missus promised me,
Raise rukus tonight,
When she died she’d set me free.
We’re gonna raise a rukus tonight,
Gonna raise a rukus tonight.
My ol’ master promised me,
Gonna raise a rukus tonight,
When I grew to be a man
He’d give me a horse’s rein.
Gonna raise a rukus tonight.

Wring Jing Had a Little Ding

If I live to see next fall,
Wring Jing had a little ding,
Ain’t goin’ to have no lover at all,
Wring Jing had a little ding.
My ol’ missus promised me,
Wring Jing had a little ding,
When she died she’d set me free,
Wring Jing had a little ding.
When she died she died so po’,
Wring Jing had a little ding,
She left me sittin’ on de kitchen flo’,
Wring Jing had a little ding.
Bull frog jumped into bottom of well,
Wring Jing had a little ding,
Swore, by golly, he jumped in hell,
Wring Jing had a little ding.
My ol’ missus had a mule,
Wring Jing had a little ding,
His name was Martin Brown,
Wring Jing had a little ding.
Every foot that Martin had,
Wring Jing had a little ding,
Would cover an acre of groun’,
Wring Jing had a little ding.
My ol’ missus had a mule,
Wring Jing had a little ding,
His name was Martin Brown,
Wring Jing had a little ding.
Every foot that Martin had,
Wring Jing had a little ding,
Would cover an acre of groun’,
Wring Jing had a little ding.

Gwine to Git a Home By an’ By

My ol’ missus promised me,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by,
When she died, she’d set me free,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
She did live till she got bal’,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by,
And she never died at all,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
Chorus:
Den O dat watermelon!
Lamb of goodness, you must die;
I’m gwine to jine de contraband, chillun,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
A shoo-fly cut a pigeon wing,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by;
A rattlesnake rolled in a ’possum’s skin,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
Cow path crooked gwine through the wood,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by,
Missus says I shan’t, I says I should,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
Sister Sue and ol’ Aunt Sallie,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by,
Both live down in shin-bone alley,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
Name on de house, name on de do’,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by,
Big green spot on de grocery sto’,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
Den O dat watermelon!
Lamb of goodness, you must die;
I’m gwine to jine de contraband, chillun,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
A shoo-fly cut a pigeon wing,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by;
A rattlesnake rolled in a ’possum’s skin,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
Cow path crooked gwine through the wood,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by,
Missus says I shan’t, I says I should,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
Sister Sue and ol’ Aunt Sallie,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by,
Both live down in shin-bone alley,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.
Name on de house, name on de do’,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by,
Big green spot on de grocery sto’,
Gwine to git a home by an’ by.

There are many songs of the mule, some of which are old and being revived, some of which have been made new by the phonograph records. The first illustration here was sung with remarkable effect at the Dayton, Tennessee, Scopes trial, with hundreds of whites and Negroes standing around the quartette of Negroes who came for the occasion. Most of their songs were of the stereotyped sort, such as Ain’t Gonna Rain No Mo’. The mule song is the best illustration of the minstrel type given in this volume. The other mule songs are presented largely for comparison, and are not particularly valuable. One of these, exhorting Miss Liza to keep her seat, is similar to the version collected twenty years ago in Mississippi.[80]

[80] See The Negro and His Songs, p. 235.

Go ’Long Mule

I’ve got a mule, he’s such a fool
He never pays no heed;
I built a fire ’neath his tail,
An’ then he showed some speed.
Chorus:
Go ’long, mule,
Don’t you roll dem eyes;
You can change a fool, but a doggone mule
Is a mule until he dies.
Drove down to the graveyard,
Some peaceful rest to fin’;
But when a black cat crossed my path
I sure did change my min’.
My gal’s ol’ man don’t like me much,
He’s got a heart o’ flint;
Last night I saw him buy a gun
An’ I can take a hint.
I bought some biscuits for my dog
An’ put them on the shelf;
Times got so hard I shot the dog
An’ ate them up myself.
Both Rufus Akes an’ Rastus Payne
Got married down in Gaines;
An’ now they say the Georgia woods
Are full of Akes an’ Paynes.
A cowslip ain’t no kind o’ slip
To slip upon a cow;
That’s why a catfish never answers
To a cat’s meow.
A man in Georgia pulled a gun
An’ took a shot at me;
Just as he took the second shot
I passed through Tennessee.
Bill Jones was taken ill while callin’
On his gal Salome.
What really caused his illness was
Her husband who came home.
They say some one’s been stealin’ things,
It’s kind-a newsed aroun’;
I swear I don’t know who it is,
But I am leavin’ town.
I’m goin’ to the river now
To lay me down and die,
An’ if I find the water’s wet
I’ll wait until it’s dry.
My gal invited me to dine,
I went prepared to eat;
But all she placed upon my plate
Was chicken necks and feet.
They’re gonna hold a meetin’ there
Of some society.
There’s ’leven sheets upon the line,
That’s ten too much for me.[81]
Drove down to the graveyard,
Some peaceful rest to fin’;
But when a black cat crossed my path
I sure did change my min’.
My gal’s ol’ man don’t like me much,
He’s got a heart o’ flint;
Last night I saw him buy a gun
An’ I can take a hint.
I bought some biscuits for my dog
An’ put them on the shelf;
Times got so hard I shot the dog
An’ ate them up myself.
Both Rufus Akes an’ Rastus Payne
Got married down in Gaines;
An’ now they say the Georgia woods
Are full of Akes an’ Paynes.
A cowslip ain’t no kind o’ slip
To slip upon a cow;
That’s why a catfish never answers
To a cat’s meow.
A man in Georgia pulled a gun
An’ took a shot at me;
Just as he took the second shot
I passed through Tennessee.
Bill Jones was taken ill while callin’
On his gal Salome.
What really caused his illness was
Her husband who came home.
They say some one’s been stealin’ things,
It’s kind-a newsed aroun’;
I swear I don’t know who it is,
But I am leavin’ town.
I’m goin’ to the river now
To lay me down and die,
An’ if I find the water’s wet
I’ll wait until it’s dry.
My gal invited me to dine,
I went prepared to eat;
But all she placed upon my plate
Was chicken necks and feet.
They’re gonna hold a meetin’ there
Of some society.
There’s ’leven sheets upon the line,
That’s ten too much for me.[81]

[81] Evidently refers to a Ku Klux Klan meeting.

Hump-back Mule

If you want to sneeze,
Tell you what to do,
Get some salt an’ pepper,
Put it in yo’ shoe.
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
If you want to see pretty yaller gal,
She’s ridin’ a hump-back mule.
Ol’ massa bought pretty yaller gal,
Bought her from the South,
She wrapped her hair so tight
She couldn’t open her mouth.
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
If you want to see pretty yaller gal,
She’s ridin’ a hump-back mule.
Carried her to blacksmith shop
To have her mouth made small,
She back her years and open her mouth
An’ swallowed shop and all.
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
If you want to see pretty yaller gal,
She’s ridin’ a hump-back mule.
Niggers plant de cotton on hill,
Niggers pick it out,
White man pocket money,
Nigger does without.
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
If you want to see pretty yaller gal,
She’s ridin’ a hump-back mule.
Carried her to blacksmith shop
To have her mouth made small,
She back her years and open her mouth
An’ swallowed shop and all.
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
If you want to see pretty yaller gal,
She’s ridin’ a hump-back mule.
Niggers plant de cotton on hill,
Niggers pick it out,
White man pocket money,
Nigger does without.
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
Ridin’ hump-back mule,
If you want to see pretty yaller gal,
She’s ridin’ a hump-back mule.

Whoa, Mule

I hear dem sleigh bells ringin’, snow am fallin’ fas’,
I’s got dis mule in de horness, got him hitched at las’.
Liza, get yo’ bonnet, come an’ take a seat,
Grab up dat robe you’re sittin’ on an’ cover up yo’ feet.
Chorus:
Whoa, mule, whoa I say!
Keep yo’ seat, Miss Liza Jane, an’ hold on to de sleigh.
Whoa, mule, whoa I say!
Keep yo’ seat, Miss Liza Jane, an’ hold on to de sleigh.
What’s dis mule a-roamin’ for? He ain’t got half a load.
When you catch dis mule a-roamin’, jus’ give him all de road.
Don’t get scared at nothin’, you stay here today,
Liza, help me hold dis mule, or else he’ll get away.
Watch dis mule a-goin’, goodness how he can sail!
Watch his big ears floppin’, see him sling his tail.
Goin’ down to de ’possum, Liza, you keep cool,
I ain’t got time to kiss you now, I’s busy with dis mule.
What’s dis mule a-roamin’ for? He ain’t got half a load.
When you catch dis mule a-roamin’, jus’ give him all de road.
Don’t get scared at nothin’, you stay here today,
Liza, help me hold dis mule, or else he’ll get away.
Watch dis mule a-goin’, goodness how he can sail!
Watch his big ears floppin’, see him sling his tail.
Goin’ down to de ’possum, Liza, you keep cool,
I ain’t got time to kiss you now, I’s busy with dis mule.

A Nigger’s Hard to Fool

A Georgia nigger an’ a Georgia mule,
Dese two asses is hard to fool.
Might fool a white man,
Might fool his mother,
Might fool his sister,
An’ you might fool his brother;
But a nigger’s hard to fool,
But a nigger’s hard to fool.
A Georgia yaller gal
An’ a Georgia black
Kin always dog
A feller’s track,
But he’s hard to fool.
Yes, Lawd, a nigger’s hard to fool.
A Georgia road’s red,
Bottom lan’ black,
A Georgia nigger
Is a cracker jack,
An’ he’s hard to fool.
Yes, Lawd, a nigger’s hard to fool.
A Georgia road’s red,
Bottom lan’ black,
A Georgia nigger
Is a cracker jack,
An’ he’s hard to fool.
Yes, Lawd, a nigger’s hard to fool.

I’m Fishin’ Boun’

Look ’cross the fiel’, see the sun comin’ down,
Dis is de day to be layin’ ’roun’.
Bait in de can, hook on de stick,
I’m done too lazy to hit a lick,
I’m fishin’ boun’, I’m fishin’ boun’.
Lazies got me, an’ I don’t keer,
Stomach’s empty, but who’s gonna fear?
Bait in de can, hook on de stick,
Fishin’ spell done got me, I can’t hit a lick,
I’m fishin’ boun’, I’m fishin’ boun’.
Come on fellers, wid yo’ luck in yo’ han’
We’s gonna eat minners out de fryin’ pan,
Bait in de can, hook on de line,
If I don’t go to fishin’, nigger, I’ll be dyin’,
I’m fishin’ boun’, I’m fishin’ boun’.
Stretch flat on yo’ belly wid yo’ back in de air,
Look out fo’ yo’ hook, Lawd, he’s bitin’ dere!
Bait in de can, hook on de stick,
I’m plum’ so hungry, I’m most nigh sick,
I’m fishin’ boun’, I’m fishin’ boun’.
Come on fellers, wid yo’ luck in yo’ han’
We’s gonna eat minners out de fryin’ pan,
Bait in de can, hook on de line,
If I don’t go to fishin’, nigger, I’ll be dyin’,
I’m fishin’ boun’, I’m fishin’ boun’.
Stretch flat on yo’ belly wid yo’ back in de air,
Look out fo’ yo’ hook, Lawd, he’s bitin’ dere!
Bait in de can, hook on de stick,
I’m plum’ so hungry, I’m most nigh sick,
I’m fishin’ boun’, I’m fishin’ boun’.

Co’n Bread

Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Feed dis nigger on co’n bread.
White man eats biscuit,
Nigger eats pone;
Nigger he’s de stronges’
Jes’ sho’s you bo’n.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Give dis nigger greasy co’n bread.
Put on de skillit,
Po’ in de grease,
Don’t make a little,
But a great big piece.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
All lazy niggers loves co’n bread.
Sif’ out de bran an’
Drap in de pone,
Lawd knowed whut he’s doin’
When he made dat co’n.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Give dis nigger plenty co’n bread.
You loves Emma an’
I loves Jake.
You is de nigger
Some greasy co’n bread to bake.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Black greasy nigger eats co’n bread.
One han’ in de hopper,
De udder in de sack,
Ol’ black nigger wid
Red lips to smack.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Black greasy nigger eats co’n bread.
’Taters in de hill,
Meal in de bag,
Home-made sirup
In de old black keg.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Black lazy nigger eats co’n bread.
Ashes in de corner,
Fire in de middle;
Woman cooks rations,
Man sets an’ whittles.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Feed dis nigger on co’n bread.
Put on de skillit,
Po’ in de grease,
Don’t make a little,
But a great big piece.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
All lazy niggers loves co’n bread.
Sif’ out de bran an’
Drap in de pone,
Lawd knowed whut he’s doin’
When he made dat co’n.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Give dis nigger plenty co’n bread.
You loves Emma an’
I loves Jake.
You is de nigger
Some greasy co’n bread to bake.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Black greasy nigger eats co’n bread.
One han’ in de hopper,
De udder in de sack,
Ol’ black nigger wid
Red lips to smack.
’Taters in de hill,
Meal in de bag,
Home-made sirup
In de old black keg.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Black lazy nigger eats co’n bread.
Ashes in de corner,
Fire in de middle;
Woman cooks rations,
Man sets an’ whittles.
Co’n bread, co’n bread,
Feed dis nigger on co’n bread.

Other songs which are current through the singing of the minstrel type, or distributed widely on printed sheets in much the same way as the “mule” songs, are No Coon But You, De Co’t House in De Sky, and Hi-Jenny-Ho, sent us by Mr. J. D. Arthur of Tennessee. The Pullman Porter is a little more sophisticated, but represents a type of humor and easy-going vaudeville style.

No Coon But You

As I was strollin’ down the street,
“Who did you meet?”
A yellah gal I chanced to meet.
“What did you say?”
Said I, “My little honey, now who’s
you gwine to meet?
May I have the pleasure of walkin’
down the street
With the one I long so for? You are
the apple of my eye.”
An’ then she turned her sparklin’ eyes
an’ quickly said to me:
Chorus:
“No coon but you, babe, no coon but you,
No coon but you, babe, will ever do.
No coon but you, babe, no coon but you,
No coon but you will ever do.”
As we were passin’ down the street,
“What happened then?”
Her Sunday babe we chanced to meet.
“What happened then?”
He grabbed me by the shoulder, he quickly
turned me ’roun’.
Said I, “Look out here, nigger, I’ll fall
you to the groun’.”
But he took away my yellah gal, an’ as
they passed me by,
I heard him say, “Now who’s your babe?” an’
then she said to him:
“No coon but you, babe,” etc.
That very same night there was a ball.
“Where, nigger, where?”
Down at the Black Fo’-Hundred’s Hall,
“S’pose you were there?”
Yes, I took along my razuh, an’ gave
it such a swing,
I cut that yellah nigger right under
his left wing.
An’ as they carried out his corpse
I heard the people say,
“Now who’ll be her babe?” an’ then
she said to me:
“No coon but you, babe,” etc.
An’ then she turned her sparklin’ eyes
an’ quickly said to me:
Chorus:
“No coon but you, babe, no coon but you,
No coon but you, babe, will ever do.
No coon but you, babe, no coon but you,
No coon but you will ever do.”
As we were passin’ down the street,
“What happened then?”
Her Sunday babe we chanced to meet.
“What happened then?”
He grabbed me by the shoulder, he quickly
turned me ’roun’.
Said I, “Look out here, nigger, I’ll fall
you to the groun’.”
But he took away my yellah gal, an’ as
they passed me by,
I heard him say, “Now who’s your babe?” an’
then she said to him:
I heard him say, “Now who’s your babe?” an’
then she said to him:
“No coon but you, babe,” etc.
That very same night there was a ball.
“Where, nigger, where?”
Down at the Black Fo’-Hundred’s Hall,
“S’pose you were there?”
Yes, I took along my razuh, an’ gave
it such a swing,
I cut that yellah nigger right under
his left wing.
An’ as they carried out his corpse
I heard the people say,
“Now who’ll be her babe?” an’ then
she said to me:
“Now who’ll be her babe?” an’ then
she said to me:
“No coon but you, babe,” etc.

CHAPTER XI
WORKADAY RELIGIOUS SONGS