Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1897-11-05
SONGS OF OLD SLAVE DAYS
Old-Time Plantation Melodies Have Passed
Away.
Negroes of the Present Day Cut the
Original Melodies Into
Scrappy Discords.

The old-time plantation songs of the slav-
cry days have about passed away, and the
negroes now cut the original melodies into
scrappy discords and minor notes. A negro
had rather strike minor note than to
rub the waistband of his pants against a
well-flled table and eat. 1t seems that. the
peculiar tone holds fascination for him
which cannot be overcome. There is al
ways something to interest you when you
can hear genuine old-time plantation
song as sung by the aged slave negroes.
when heart and soul are united in the song.
1t Is natural for a negro tn sing, he posses
ses naturally clear voice and sings with
bis hands, feet and head. His music Is gen.
orally of the lively order. as his nature
has always been. and no trouble can rob
him Of his happy disposition.
have spent many a pleasant hour lis
tening to the quaint songs Of an old gray
headed negro on my grandfather's farm,
2s he would rasp the screening chords In
accompaniment on his banjo. When he
wouid sing he would get humming start
with the chords. and begin with a long
drawn out note, rear way back, pat his
feet and shake his old gray head. He
enjoyed singing and I enjoyed listening
l would take him little pieces Of colored
paper and all the coiored glass could find
to get him to sing for me, and to repeat
the far-famed verse of alliteratiqn: Did
you ever see a possum in a pawpaw patch.
"A pickin Ut pawpaws and putin EN- in
his pocket to make Il pawpaw pie for his
papa?' This is the joy Of his life, and 1t
never grew old or tiresome to him to re-
peat it.
Nose was his name and not long since
concluded to pay him visit and to hear
again the songs / had SO enjoyed when n
child. 1 found his cabin and he was at
home, being unable to get about much
1 shook hands with the honest old negro
"a down Tho Iiyht VIII inf
his face showed how welcome 1 was, and
we had d long talk.
Finally 1 asked him to take the dusty
banjo from the wall and give ME a few
strains of "Nigger Foot in Ashes at d
lively clip. He did as 1 asked, and the
old-tiEe vigor came upon him again.
After playing a while, 1 asked him to sing
me the corn-shucking song the niggers'
used to sing while they danced the "rab-
bit Dance" after the corn was all husked
and the white folks" had gone TO bed.
way back on his chair and his feet extend
ed to keep time with the banjo, he sang:
Early one morning on my massa's farm,
Cut dat pigeon wing, Lily Jane;
heard dem chickens a-givin' de alarm,
Shake yo' feet, Miss Lily Jane.
81 AXE y feet, niggers, it'll soon be day,
Shoot along lively, Miss Lily Jane;
Massa ketch us dancin', there'N - to pay,
We got to dig 'taiters and hoe dat corn
Hit dat dubble-shuffie. Lily Jane;
You'd better be a-humptn', coz it soon be
morn,
Shake dat balmoral, Lily Jane.
After Nose finished singing this song an
eight-inch grin played across his face from
ear to ear, his eyes sparkled and the old
negro was happy again as If the young
folks had gone through their dancing while
ne sang. He said: "Massa VIII, de best
days OBJ de old nigger's life am done gone
but when 1 think OBJ de good old times we
had befo de wah, desc bones OBJ mine gets
young. and 1 want to git right up and hit
a. CtaYo ntTn1 tkaT IL
told me of how he was considered the best
dancer in his section. and that there
wasn't buck anywhere around who could
hold him light.
myself, and that If he would cut down hve-
ly on the old 'barn-yard cackle," I would
show him few steps in Jig dancing. This
tlckled the Wrinkled-face coon and he sang
and played in earnest.
Rooster in de chicken COOP CROWN FL,
Horses in de stable go nay, nay, nay;
Ducks in de yard go quack, quack, quack,
Quack,
And de goose goes flley-I-fee.
Pigs in de pen keep a-squealin' fo' slop,
Big dogs barkin' like dey never will stop;
Gu1neas in de tree go pot-rack, pot-rack,
And de goose goes fney-I-fee."
1 stopped him because I was out of
breath, and he laid back in his chair and
laughed TIL his sides were aching 1 pulled
ana the effect was magical; he jumped
three feet on rise and six feet on the
stretch, and gave whoop which was
equal to Commanche chiefs After his
fright was over he told me, whatever did
not to put any more of those hoodoos on
him. l did not intend to frighten him, but
wished to see II the superstition he had Dos
sessed in his young days had departed from
bin. gave him shining dollar for scar
ing him so. and he was himself again. We
had had a fine time in the few hours had
stayed with him and 1 asked him to pick
up his banjo again and play and sing the
tune he used to call MIR. kimble" His
bony fingers raked across the strings again
and he sang the quaint song l had enjoyed
often when a child:
You CANT guess what we had TO- supper
Cum a rop-strop-bottle Mr.. Kimble
Black-eyed peas and bread and butter,
Cum a rop-strop-bottle Mr. Kimble.
'Beefsteak, ham and mutton chop
Cum a rop-strop- bottle Mr. Kimble:
Make a nigger's lips go fippity-f1op,
Cum rop-strop-bottle Mr.. Kimble."
And after each verse sang the chorus:
'Keemo, Kimo. Kilgo, Kayro.
F1eero, Fliro. Flavoray;
Rop-strop periwinkle, little yaller booger,
Cum rop-strop-bottle Mr.. Kimble''
Though age had left it's telling mark on
the person of Nose. his rich voice was as
clear as bell and the minstrel Of today
cannot equal it for genuine melody. I
was not anxious to leave him. but the day
was far spent, and had several miles to
go, SO 1 babe him goodbye and left the
faithful old servant with tears streaming
down his husky face. He laid his rough
hands on my head and blessed me. saying:
"Massa VIII, I'll soon be ober dere in de
land oh Canyan, but I'll remember dis visit
TO my dying day.