The Project Gutenberg EBook of Darkey Ways in Dixie, by Margaret A. Richard This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Darkey Ways in Dixie Author: Margaret A. Richard Release Date: December 23, 2012 [EBook #41691] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DARKEY WAYS IN DIXIE *** Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive.) A Charleston Ground-nut Woman. DARKEY WAYS IN DIXIE BY MARGARET A. RICHARD THE Abbey Press PUBLISHERS 114 FIFTH AVENUE London NEW YORK Montreal Copyright, 1901. by THE Abbey Press CONTENTS. PAGE Mammy’s Baby Chile 5 Playin’ Craps 7 The Washerwoman’s Song 9 A Seller ob Ole Clo’es 11 A Well-Cleaner’s Revery 13 Song of the Huckster 15 By-en-By 18 In Season ob Mistletoe 21 Christmas Gif’ 24 Snow in the South 26 Aunty’s Affliction 28 The Difference 30 Blackberry Time 32 Dat Jew’s-Harp 33 Wid his Feet 35 The Broken Banjo 37 When Dey Sing 39 At de Meetin’ 41 A Philosopher 46 Des de Same 49 So de Sunshine Stay 50 Daddy Long Legs 51 His Capacity Filled 52 Ike’s Temptation 54 Whar de Watermilyun Grow 57 What his Education Done 59 Booker T. Washington 62 Crazy Joe’s Ambition 65 Grinnin’ Jake 67 Elmiry Vaccinated 69 Simple Simon 72 An Obstacle Overcome 73 Two of a Kind 75 Quarantined 77 A Puzzling Clause 79 ’Fo’e de Wah 80 Groun’-Hog Day 85 Excusable 87 Jeff’s Fun’ral Sermon 88 Uncle Bob to his Dog 90 [Pg 3] [Pg 4] A Prophecy 92 ’Possum en Pertatoes 93 Cotton’s Comin’ In 96 Dat Yaller Gal 97 Ter Walk wid his Gal 101 Cunjud 103 Uncle Ben’s Superstition 104 Wid de Witches 106 A Restless Spirit 108 Pardoned 111 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE A Charleston Ground-Nut Woman Frontispiece “I rub en I rub” 10 “Vegtibles” 16 “En he drive a ox so slow” 18 The Boot-Black 32 The Wood-Sawyer 46 Grinnin’ Jake 68 “How de News git roun dem posts” 74 “On de Chain Gang” 110 DARKEY WAYS IN DIXIE. Mammy’s Baby Chile. Hush, now hush, do’ cry no mo’ Kaze yo’ daddy had ter go In de massa’s fiel’ ter hoe, Mammy’s baby chile. He gwine come back, dat you’ll see, Kaze he b’long ter you en me, En he’ll jog you on his knee, Mammy’s baby chile. Hush, den hush, do’ cry no mo’! Set dar quiet on de flo’ While I wash de clo’es, you know, Mammy’s baby chile. When de cotton season come, Me en you won’ stay at home, Kaze yo’ mammy gwine pick some, [Pg 5] [Pg 6] Mammy’s baby chile. You kin set in de sunshine On de cotton, sof’ en fine, Lis’nin’ ter de moanin’ pine, Mammy’s baby chile. When we done, at en’ ob day, En come home (heah what I say!) Daddy’ll ride you all de way, Mammy’s baby chile. Hush, den hush, do’ cry no mo’ Kaze yo’ daddy had ter go In de massa’s fiel’ ter hoe, Mammy’s baby chile. Playin’ Craps. What you git dat nickel change Up in coppers fo’, What de preacher gib ter you Las’ night ’fo’e he go? Bet you soon be wid dem chaps Roun’ de corner playin’ craps. What you say? You done bin dar? Is you, nigger, sho? Den de Black Maria git you Sho’s de pleeceman know ’Bout dem dirty little chaps Roun’ de corner playin’ craps. What you gwine make up ter tell Preacher Jones, Eli, When he as’ you ’bout dat nickel— When, en how, en why? Dat you los’ it ter dem chaps Roun’ de corner playin’ craps? Neber los’ it? Well, I say! Why you talk so slow? Bring dat money out ter sight, So I sho kin know If you ’scape dem cunnin’ chaps Roun’ de corner playin’ craps. Thirteen ob dem! Thirteen coppers, Sho ez I’m erlive! Han’ dem ebry one to me— Scusin ob des five;— En you stay ’way frum them chaps Roun’ de corner playin’ craps! The Washerwoman’s Song. Oh, I rub en I rub All day in de tub! [Pg 7] [Pg 8] [Pg 9] I went fo’ dese clo’es ’fo’e de clock strike eight, En I rubbin’ on dem in de evenin’ late. I rub en I rub All day in de tub. Oh, I rub en I rub All day in de tub! I soap all de pieces in places erbout, En I scrub till I git all de dinginess out. I rub en I rub All day in de tub. Oh, I rub en I rub All day in de tub! Sho ez de good Missus pay me fo’ dese I gwine treat you chillun ter crackers en cheese. Ain’t you glad I kin rub All day in de tub? “I rub en I rub!” A Seller Ob Ole Clo’es. Dese am pretty clo’es, fo’ true, En I’ll sell ’em quick fo’ you, Dat I will! Dey does look des lak you, Miss, En I feel dat I could kiss Ebry frill. Dis heah flower on dis hat— Lan’! My heart do cry fo’ dat— It so sweet! I would sholy lak ter go Wid it on my head, des so, Down de street. “Buy it, den, yo’se’f,” you say? Now, you know dat I cain’t pay Fo’ dat hat! Sellin’ clo’es ain’t made me rich, But my head do sholy itch To weah dat. If dem niggers come en pay Allers fo’ de clo’es dey say Dey gwine git, I would hab de change ter buy Somethin’ when my heart do cry So fo’ it. Ten cents on de dollar, Miss, Won’ buy soon a hat lak dis, Dat am sho; En dis nigger hab ter eat— Hab ter buy some bread en meat, Ez you know. Well, good-day! Dese pretty clo’es, [Pg 10] [Pg 11] [Pg 12] Wid dey laces en dey bows, Soon be gone; Kaze dem gals, when dey heah tell Dat I got yo’ clo’es ter sell, Sho gwine run. The Well-Cleaner’s Revery. Me en Tom bin cleanin’ wells Long time, sho; En we’ll clean ’em till God tells Us ter go Up dar whar de shinin’ stream, Pu’ en sweet, Flow frue heaven, lak a dream, At our feet. En I min’ me how us two, Ez time pass, Work togedder good, fo’ true, Fus’ en las’; One stay up en one go down, En bofe know Dey mus’ fill dey place, I boun’, High or low. When Tom turn de win’lass roun’, En I go Fur down underneath de groun’, Dark en low, I trus’ allers dat he gwine Draw me out Ter de place whar de sun shine All erbout. En I b’lieve dat if a man Fall in sin, We mus’ lif’ him, if we kin, Up ag’in; Kaze he need de he’pin’ han’, Dat am sho, If all safe he rise en stan’ Any mo’. God done take dis simple way Ter show me Dat while in de worl’ we stay We must be ’Pendent on each other, sho, Till we rise Frum de dang’rous deeps below Ter de skies. Song Of the Huckster. I don’ ride erlong de street Wid my mouth shet tight, Kaze I know I got ter sing, [Pg 13] [Pg 14] [Pg 15] Lak a singer right, If I make dis pile ob goods Dwindle frum de sight: “Tomatoes en okra Passin’ right by! Beans en pertatoes— De prices ain’t high! Apples en peaches, De fines’ ter-day! Oh, come out en buy ’Fo’e dey all git away— Come out en buy!” All de white men down de street Wantin’ me, fo’ sho, Des to drive en sell fo’ dem, Kaze dey say dey know I git rid ob all my truck, Singin’ ez I go: “Tomatoes en okra Passin’ right by! Beans en pertatoes— De prices ain’t high! Apples en peaches, De fines’ ter-day! Oh, come out en buy ’Fo’e dey all git away— Come out en buy!” Once de preacher what hol’ fo’th Fo’ de Methodis’, Say: “Oh, man, I b’l’eve dat you Done yo’ callin’ miss! Why’n’t you use dat voice ter preach ’Stead ob shoutin’ dis: “Vegtibles.” “‘Tomatoes en okra Passin’ right by! Beans en pertatoes— De prices ain’t high! Apples en peaches, De fines’ ter-day! Oh, come out en buy ’Fo’e dey all git away— Come out en buy!’” En I laugh en tell him dat Dis town full ter-day Ob fine men, des lak hisse’f, What kin preach en pray; But dey ain’t but one dat go Singin’ ’long dis way: “Tomatoes en okra Passin’ right by! Beans en pertatoes— De prices ain’t high! [Pg 16] [Pg 17] Apples en peaches, De fines’ ter-day! Oh, come out en buy ’Fo’e dey all git away— Come out en buy!” By en By. Uncle Reuben, ole en good, Come ter town wid nice fat wood Frum de san’ hills fur away— ’Mos’ eleben miles, dey say. En he drive a ox so slow, En a cart dat wobble so, Dat it look lak dey gwine fall, En ole Uncle gwine lose all, By en by, by en by. Uncle got dat wood dervide, En in hones’ bundles tied, En he holler ’cross de fence: “Three big bunches fo’ ten cents! Buy some, Missus, please, frum me, Kaze I need de change, you see; En I mus’ go down de street Ter git me some meal en meat, By en by, by en by. “En he drive a ox so slow.” Missus say she don’ want none; What he brought befo’ ain’t gone; En ole Uncle pass on by, Still wid courage in his eye; En he doan’ lose heart dat day, But wid smilin’ face he say: “I ain’t bin all ’roun’ de town— I gwine sell it, I am boun’, By en by, by en by.” En he sell it all, fo’ true, Ez he said dat he would do! When at las’ he go down street, He buy mo’ dan meal en meat, Kaze he lak terbacco, too, Well ez any nigger do; En he say: “I’ll ’joy it, sho, Ez erlong de road I go, By en by, by en by.” When he ’bout ter leave de town Ez de sun am gwine down, Us black niggers laugh en say: “Bet you won’t git home ter-day Wid dat ox, so ole en slow, En dat cart dat wobble so!” En he bow his head en say: “I gwine git dar, anyway, [Pg 18] [Pg 19] [Pg 20] By en by, by en by.” Uncle Reuben’s gittin’ ole— He’s pas’ sixty, I’se bin tole; En his han’ sho shake ter-day In a weak en trimblin’ way; En his ole legs wobbled too, Lak de wheels ob his cart do, Ez he say: “De en’ soon come, Kaze de Lawd gwine call me home, By en by, by en by.” In Season Ob Mistletoe. Dat Sambo ain’t got good sense; Work agin hisse’f for sho; ’Tain’t no parable I’m tellin’, ’Tis de truf, en dat am so. He wus ’ployed by Missus Johnsing Ter run erran’s en bring wood;— Ter do anything, in fac’, Roun’ de place a nigger could; En Sambo, he done right well Till de boys begin ter sell Bunches ob de mistletoe. ’Twus de Chris’mas time ercomin’, En it tingled in his blood, Till he couldn’t stick ter sawin’ En ter choppin’ ob de wood; En he couldn’t heah de Missus When she say: “Be smart, Sambo!” Kaze de soun’ ob dem boys callin’ In de street wus all he know; En a nigger stop en say: “We is lucky, sho, ter-day; We des sells de mistletoe!” Sambo didn’t stop ter say: “’Scuse me, Missus, I mus’ go!” Do his po’ ole mammy teach him Better manners, dat you know. He des leave dat yard en clim’ Up de neares’ ole oak tree, Whar de mistletoe wus growin’ Fresh en green ez it could be; En he jine dem boys dat cry: “Mistletoe er passin’ by! Don’ you want some mistletoe?” En he sell it mighty good— He des scoop de nickles in! Seem de Lawd wus blessin’ him In his foolishness en sin. Dar de Missus wus er needin’ Him ter chop en bring in wood, En he orter gone en done it— Kaze she sho bin mighty good, But he strut erlong de street, Hol’rin’ out: “It’s hard to beat Dis fine bunch ob mistletoe!” [Pg 21] [Pg 22] [Pg 23] But de jedgment come at las’, Ez it boun’ ter come, fo’ sho, When a nigger work agin His ownse’f, lak dat Sambo. When de holidays wus pas’ Missus say dat she don’ need Him to work no mo’ fo’ her, Kaze she got some one instead. En dat boy got sense ter know White folks don’ buy mistletoe When de season am done pas’! Chris’mas Gif’! I go tip-toe down de alley Ter de Missus’ kitchen do’, Kaze I know she got some Chris’mas Somewhar fo’ dis darkey, sho; She don’ spec’ me roun’ dat way, En I s’prise her when I say: “Chris’mas gif’!” Den she turn roun’, des er laughin’, En she say: “De same ter you! Is you got a present fo’ me? Kaze I want one—I sho do!” “You’s des foolin’,” den I say; “’Sides I hollered fus dis day: ‘Chris’mas gif’!’” Den she git a big bandanna— One wid po’ka dots ob red, En she say: “Ez you done ketch me, You kin hab dis fo’ yo’ head.” So I sho am glad dis day Dat I wus de fus ter say: “Chris’mas gif’!” Snow in the South. Dis mornin’ when I went ter po’ Water out my cabin do’, I wus sho surprised ter see, While de darkness all roun’ me, Snow wus des er fallin’ down Till it civered all de groun’. Bin des ’bout two yeahs or mo’ Sence I seed a flake ob snow; En I call to Mandy: “Say! Heah’s a sight, fo’ sho, ter-day! Yestiday was lak de spring; Look what des one night done bring.” En she come en poke her head Out from under dat ole shed; En she say: “When you go down [Pg 24] [Pg 25] [Pg 26] Ter de Massa’s in de town, You mus’ civer up yo’ back Wid a nice warm crocus sack.” En she say: “Yo’ shoes am ole; Sho dey days am neahly tole.” En she wrap ’em, fo’th en back, Wid dem bits ob crocus sack, Till you hardly see my feet When I walk erlong de street. Massa p’int ter dem en say: “Wouldn’t dress up dat erway! Why’n’t you git some rubber shoes? You could buy ’em if you choose.” But I won’t! Kaze don’t I know Soon de sun gwine drink dat snow? Aunty’s Affliction. How is I dis mornin’, Miss? Po’ly, dat am true! In de night-time I don’ sleep Lak I orter do, Kaze I got de miz’ry bad In me, up en down, En some day, fo’ sho, it gwine Fetch me ter de groun’. Oh, I’s full ob trouble, Miss!— Full ez I kin be. Ain’t you got some liniment You kin gib ter me? I is ’bleeged ter git some he’p Somewhar, dat am sho, Else dis miz’ry in de j’ints Soon gwine lay me low. Oh, I thank you, thank you, Miss! God will bless you, sho. All de goodness ob yo’ heart He mus’ sholey know; En he’ll pay you when at las’ He done lay me down;— When dis pain en miz’ry done Fetch me ter de groun’. The Difference. If de white man am a sinner He go walkin’, walkin’ free, But de nigger lan’, fo’ sho, In de penitentiary. Now dat Simeon steal some cotton (Cunjud by de evil one) En dey sen’ him ter de prison Fo’ de wrong dat he am done. [Pg 27] [Pg 28] [Pg 29] [Pg 30] Fo’ three yeahs he done bin workin’ In de penitentiary, En he got ter stay dar longer Frum de chillun en frum me. Dat rich farmer git de cotton— Ebry poun’ ob it—ag’in, But dey keep dat Simeon lock up Lak he done an awful sin. If de white man am a sinner He go walkin’, walkin’ free, But de nigger sho gwine lan’ In de penitentiary. Blackberry Time. Missus, please write me a letter back home, En tell ’em I say dat I want ’em ter come At blackberry time in June. My little ole cabin won’t hol’ any mo’, But nobody freeze in de yard, dat am sho, At blackberry time in June. Tell ’em I lonesome. I sholy will die If dey don’ come to he’p me eat blackberry pie At blackberry time in June. Dis nigger am po’, but dar’s plenty to eat When de fruit ebrywhar hangin’ juicy en sweet At blackberry time in June. So, Missus, please write me a letter back home, En tell ’em I say dat I want ’em ter come At blackberry time in June. THE BOOT-BLACK. “No, sah ree! You do’n’ ketch me Shinin’ yo’ shoes fo’ de ha’f ob a dime; Dis nigger belong Ter de union strong, En he charge you de full price ebry time.” Dat Jew’s Harp. I does try ter fetch up Jim So de white folks respec’ him; But in spite ob all I say He des set out dar all day On de back do’ step, en play Dat jew’s harp. [Pg 31] [Pg 32] [Pg 33] De fus job he git ter do, I wus glad, it sho am true; But he come home, sleek en sly, Wid de sunshine in his eye, Soon’s he git enough ter buy Dat jew’s harp. “You black nigger, you!” I say, “Whar yo’ senses gone ter-day? Don’t you know when niggers eat Dey mus’ ’arn dey bread en meat?” But he des play, sof’ en sweet, Dat jew’s harp. When I tell ole Missus once Jim wus des a lazy dunce, She say: “Hush! Don’ talk dat way; He’s a ginious, I dare say, En de muses bid him play Dat jew’s harp.” Pshaw! De ginious en de muses! What’s de use ob dem ixcuses? If I hab ter flog dat Jim Wid a great big hick’ry lim’, Bet he’ll frow away frum him Dat jew’s harp! Wid His Feet. When I git down my banjo Des to pick a tune or so, Tobin ’gin ter pat de flo’ Wid his feet. He don’t neber heah me play In de night-time or de day, But he sho gwine ac’ dat way Wid his feet. En he pat, now fas’, now slow;— Easy now, den loud, he go, Keepin’ time ter my banjo Wid his feet. En who ever heah dat coon Allers say, en dat right soon: “He kin play a purty tune Wid his feet.” He kin make mo’ music, sho, Dan I kin wid my banjo When he pat de cabin flo’ Wid his feet. De Broken Banjo. In dis little ole log cabin [Pg 34] [Pg 35] [Pg 36] [Pg 37] Whar de gray moss hang in sight; Whar de screech-owl make me trimble In de middle ob de night; Dar at ebenin’ you gwine fin’ me, If you look fo’ me at all, Wid my Fido settin’ by me, En my banjo on de wall. Once, when de long day wus finish, ’Fo’e ter res’ me I done go, I would set out on de do’ step Pickin’ sof’ my ole banjo, Singin’ “Dixie,” “Swanee Riber,” “Annie Laurie,” en dem all;— But my banjo am done broken, En am hangin’ on de wall. So I set heah dreamin’, dreamin’, Ob de time dat use ter be ’Fo’e my Dinah went to heaben— Dinah she wus lovin’ me! En if she had neber lef’ me I would neber weep at all, En I would not miss de music Ob de banjo on de wall. When They Sing. When dem darkies sing togedder ’Fo’e de houses in de street, People passin’ stop en lis’n Ez dey say: “Now, ain’t dat sweet? All dem niggers got good voices, En dey sho kin keep good time; I would ruther heah dem singin’ Dan de bells ob Michael chime.” When dem darkies sing togedder Wid de jew’s harp en banjo; Wid dem tamb’rine bells a-ringin’ En dem bottles dat dey blow, Oh, it sho do seem lak music Ob de holy angel ban’, En I feel lak shoutin’: “Glory! Take me ter de Canaan lan’.” When dem darkies sing togedder, Dey kin make you laugh or cry; Oh, dey kin, fo’ joy or sorrow, Bring de tear-drop ter yo’ eye! Dey kin make you stan’ dar quiet, Lis’nin’ ter de singin’ sweet, Or kin hab you dancin’, dancin’, Long ez you kin lif’ yo’ feet. When dem darkies sing togedder, White folks frow some shinin’ dimes Out de winder. My, en den Don’t dey hab some happy times? Den de people what wus lis’nin’ Say dey mus’ be gwine home; Say dey sorry dat de singin’ [Pg 38] [Pg 39] [Pg 40] Stop mos’ soon ez dey had come. At De Meetin’. Oh, now, Missus, wus I ’sleep? I is sorry, sho! I des set down heah ter res’ Wid my head down, so. En I meant to pray fo’ grace Des a little bit, Kaze I got a sinnin’ soul, En I ’knowledge it. Yes, I knows you pays me well Fo’ de work I do, En I orter stick ter it So dat I please you. But I couldn’t he’p it, Miss, If I shet my eyes; God done made dem wid dese hinges, En He sho am wise. Why’n’t I sleep at night, you as’? Missus, you don’t know How dem voices call en call, Till I hab ter go. En when once I git in church, Dar I sho gwine stay Till de stars am gittin’ pale ’Fo’e de light ob day. Dar’s a meetin’ gwine on Wid de Baptis’ now, En do I ain’t jine dat church, I kin go, I ’low; Dey don’t shet de do’ on me ’Cept when dey commune, En it won’t be time fo’ dat, So dey say, right soon. My, dey hab a whoopin’ time Roun’ dar eb’ry night, En dat preacher sho kin put Down de law des right; En he preach de holy word Till dem niggers shout,— Till dey leab dey seats at las’, Dancin’ all erbout. Anthea Allen got religion Roun’ dar las’ night, sho, En she clap her han’s en waltz Up en down de flo’, Singin’ “Glory! Hallelujah! I is on de way! Angels peepin’ down frum heaven Beckon me ter-day.” Den she fall down in a trance, Right dar on de flo’, En dem darkies po’ de camphor [Pg 41] [Pg 42] [Pg 43]