American Old Time Song Lyrics: 51 Mr Johnson
Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 51
Copyright, 1896, by Frank Harding.
Words and Music by Ben R. Harney.
T'other eb'ning when eb'ryting was still, oh, babe,
De moon was climbin' down behind de hill, oh, babe;
T'ought eb'rybody was a sound asleep,
But a old man a Johnson was a on his beat, oh, babe.
I went down into a nigger crap game,
Where de coons were a-gambling wid a might and main;
T'ought I'd a be a sport and be dead game;
I gambled my money And I wasn't to blame;
One nigger's point was a little, a Joe,
Bettin' six bits t'a quarter he could make de four;
He made dat point, but he made no more,
Just den Johnson jump'd through de door.
Oh, Mr. Johnson, turn me loose,
Got no money but a (rood excuse;
Oh, Mr. Johnson, I'll he good.
Oh! Mr. Johnson, turn me loose;
Don't take me to de calaboose;
Oh, Mr. Johnson, I'll be good.
Late de other eb'ning when the sun was down, oh, babe;
I went down on old man Johnson's chicken farm, oh, babe,
Climbed in de chicken loft on my knees,
Was a half way a through when de chicken sneezed, oh, babe.
I'll tell you, if you will only keep still,
'Bout a mile and a half from Louisville;
I am so nerbous dat I can't keep still,
When I think about it I can reel a big chill.
A big black coon was a-lookin' fer chickens,
When a great big bull-dog got to raisin' the dickens;
De coon got higher, de chicken got higher,
Just den Johnson opened up fire.
I got no chance for to be turned loose,
Got no chance for a good excuse; '
Oh, Mr. Johnson, I'll be good;
And now he's play in' seben eleben,
'Way up yonder in de nigger beab'n;
Oh, Mr. Johnson made him good.