Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1900-12-31
OF THE DAYS WHEN SLAVERY
WAS THE RULE
NEGRO SONGS OF LONG AGO
At Present They Are Cut into Scrappy
Discords-Had Charm for Slaves
Which Nothing Else Could APP
proach-UncIe Nose Before His
Cabin Door Recalls Better Days.

stader, the famous minstrel, the other
evening. ''The old gray haired slave
who used to sit by the cabin door at
night when work was over and sing
the melodies to the accompaniment OF
twanging banjo has been laid to rest.
The original melodies have been cut
into scrappy discords and minor notes
and now bear the name of 'ragtime.'
"A good voice seems to be natures
gift to the negro, and he mad rather
strike minor note than rub the waist
band of his pants against the din
ner table. 1t seems that the peculiar
tone of the minor notes holds a fascin-
alton for him which cannot be over
come There is always something to
interest one in the genuine, old time
plantation song, as sung by the aged
slave negroes, when heart and soul are
united in the song.
1T is as natural for a negro to sing
well as it is for him to love water
melon and 'possum; he possesses
naturally clear voice and sings with
his hands, feet and head. Ills tLoice
| is generally music of the lively order,
as his nature has always been, and
whether he has rag for his back Or a
penny in his pocket, no trouble can rob
him of his happy disposition.
Il have spent many a pleasant hour
listening to the quaint songs Of an old
gray headed negro on my grandfather's
farm as he would rasp the screeching
chords ON his banjo in accompaniment.
When he sang he would always get a
humming, easy start with the chords,
begin with long-drawn-out note, rear
back, pat his feet and shake his old
gray head, while.a bright smile of en-
ioyment played hop-scotch across his
wrinkled face.
"a few ginger cookies, bright bits of
paper or colored glass would always
be rewarded by his favorite allitera-
ton, Did you cher see a 'possum in a
paw-paw patch a pickin' up paw-paws
and putin 'em i'm his pocket to
make paw-paw pie for his poor old
papa?' This jingle was the JOY of his
| life and he never tired of repeating it
| for me- He was always ready with a
song or a ghost story to amuse and en-
terrain the white folks chillun.
! mot long since I concluded to pay
Nose a visit and hear again the songs
I had enjoyed when a child. I found
him sitting at his cabin door, being too
| feeble to get about much in his old
age. I shook hands with the old dar-
key and sat in the split bottomed chair
| ;oIo h oL,+ h o11
shone in his face told me I was well
come, and I enjoyed long talk with
| him.
| 'fFinally I got his banjo from the
wall and asked him to give me few
strains of 'Nigger's Foot in Ashes at
a lively clip, or as he called it quick
and devilish.'
Taking the banjo on his knee the
old time vigor came upon him again,
and he ratified off the breakdown as in
his prime. After playing some of his
| favorite old tunes I asked him to sing
me some of the old corn husking songs
| the 'niggers' used to sing where the
corn was all husked and white folks
had gone to bed. He was in fine spirits
and, with his head way back on his
chair and his foot extended to keep
| time with his banjo, he sang:
Early one mornin' on Old massa's farm,
Cut dat pigeon-wing Lily Jane;
We heard the chickens a-givin' de
alarm,
Shake yo' feet Miss Lily Jane.
Massa was a-comin' wild black snake
whip,
Shake yo' shutters, Lily Jane;
You orter to hav' seed dem niggers;
You's shakin' 'em right now, Lily
Jane.
We got to dig taters an hoe de corn,
Hit dat double-shuffle, Lily Jane;
You'd better be humpin COZ it soon be
morn
! Shake yo' balmoral, Lily Jane.
"After finishing this song an eight
inch grin played across Moses face
from ear to ear, his eyes sparkled and
the old negro was happy as If the
young niggers had gone through their
dancing while he sang and played.
Massa, said he, de best days of dis
old niggah's life am done gone, but
wen I git TIL thinkin bout de days
befo the wah, desc old bones of mine
gets young again, and I feel like [
wants to hit the jig step again, like I
ulster do, for in my days dere wasn't
buck enywheres around what could
hold light to Nose, coz I was de bes'
dancer fer miles around de old planta-
ton
II told him I was something of a
dancer myself, and if he would cut
down lively on the Old barn yard
cackle,' I would show him a few steps
in jig dancing. This tickled the old
wrinkled faced coon and he played in
| earnest:
Horses in de stable go neigh, neigh,
neigh;
Ducks in de yard go quack, quack,
oh