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NEGRO FOLK-SONGS |
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unpoetic places. For instance, there is the song about "my ol' friend, as cute as a mouse," who stole into the chicken house and lifted all the hens, which is in my "From a Southern Porch/' and so should not be repeated here. But a similar song with a differing chorus, given by Louise Garwood, of Houston, Texas, may appropriately be given.
Fragment prom Pore Mohrnah
Creepin' in de henhouse on mah knees, Thought ah heard a chicken sneeze! 'Twan't no thin' but a rooster savin' his prayers, Makin' a speech to de hens upstairs.
Chorus
Pore mournah, you shall be free, In de mornin' you shall be free! Pore mournah, you shall be free, When de good Lawd sets you free!
Mah or* Mistis promised me
When she dies she'd set me free.
She libed so long dat her head got bald;
Don't b'lieve old Mistis gwine die aytall.
Chorus As ah was goin' down de road, Wid a hahd team an' a heavy load, Ah cracked dat whip an' de mule he sprung, But de ole hoss busted de wagon-tongue!
The license, poetic and otherwise, associated with "hen-houses" is illustrated by the variations which oral circulation has given to the song Dar's a Lock on the Chicken-house Door, which Professor Kittredge tells me is a comparatively modern stage-piece.
And of course every Southerner knows:
Chickens in de bread tray,
Scratchin' out de dough. Granny, will yo' dog bite?
No, chile, no! Granny, will yo' dog bite?
No, chile, no!
Then there is the ambitious chicken in the stanza given me by an old colored cook in Waco: |
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