Plantation echoes — Background and Themes

Transcriber’s Note: Henderson’s writing captures African American dialect of his time, but the poems contain slang words and racial stereotypes that the modern reader is likely to find offensive.

A COLLECTION _of_ ORIGINAL NEGRO DIALECT POEMS

_By_ ELLIOTT BLAINE HENDERSON

COLUMBUS, OHIO PRESS OF F. J. HEER 1904

Entered According to Act of Congress in the year 1904

In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO

HOWARD BURBA L. WALTER HARRISON PROF. L. M. LAYTON T. J. McCORMICK OSMAN C. HOOPER

Literary Editor of the Columbus Dispatch, Columbus, Ohio.

The music of the American negro, the fresh and spontaneous expression of a good and care-free heart, has long been one of the most pleasing features of American life. It is human nature in its first vocal garb—original and unique, often humorous and always true to the sentiment of the singer. If there ever was an illustration of the close relationship between language and thought, it is this.

What is true of the melodies of the negro as developed in the simple existence on the plantation is also true of that other form of singing, verse-making. Among the negroes there have sprung up a number of exponents of the wisdom, wit and humor of the race. They have caught the spirit of others—the humble philosophers of their kind—and they have employed the dialect to reproduce the thought in all its quaintness and originality. One of the most notable of these exponents or interpreters is an Ohio negro, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, who has taken high rank among the poets of the day. Another is Elliott Blaine Henderson, also a son of Ohio, whose first volume of verse is herewith presented.

In much that Mr. Henderson here presents, there is the rush of expression and the jingle of words that are so characteristic of the negro. There is also humor and there is sentiment, and always that other quality which makes verse in these days readable—good cheer.

He who correctly interprets the spirit of his race serves a good cause, and it is believed that Mr. Henderson will be found to have succeeded in his undertaking to make his people better and more widely understood.

E. G. BURKHAM, _Editor of the Columbus Dispatch, Columbus, Ohio_.

When the Moon Hangs Low 9

Seems Dey’s No Place 10

Good Bye, Honey, Good Bye 12

Whut We Gwine To Do 14

Kaze I kno’ I Kain’t Stop 16

Dahky Whut Yo’ Doin? 18

When De Fiah Am Kindlin’ Hot 20

When De Summah’s Dun Cum 23

The Coon’s Serenade 24

Blissful Anticipations 25

Pawson Johnson At Dinner 27

Go ’Way, Mah Honey 28

Brer Possum Declines 30

I Hain’t Foolin’ Honey 31

A Profuse Encomium 34

Peepin’ Th’ew De Husk 35

Axin’ Coon Cum Obeah 38

Kase De Sun Am Sinkin’ 41

Soft Falls The Night 43

Git On Board, Chillun 44

Uncle Ned An’ De Mockin’ Bird 46

Sambo’s Rain Philosophy 50

Jes’ Keep Er Lookin’ Up 51

Wished I’d Rode Mah Hoss 53

Eggs! Eggs!! Eggs!!! 54

It Am De Possum Time 55

Stick To Your Race 57

Is Yo’ Lonesum, Honey? 64

Larn To He’p Yo’se’f 64

Courtin’ O’ De Phone 66

Lonesum Valley Christmas Tree 68

Yes, Wees Got Er Flag 72

Dey’s Er Col’ Wave Breshin’ Nigh 77

The Passing Of Night 82

The Exstacy of Uncle Joe 85

Climin’ Up De Hill 88

The Gallant Blacks of San Juan Hill 93

WHEN THE MOON HANGS LOW.

A straying chicken Lost from home Bewildered, finds Itself a-roam. And innocently Stalks the ground, Not dreaming That a coon’s around.

As evening’s shadows Gently fall, The chicken, lonesome, Gives a call. A coon steals out Soft in the night, To catch him For his appetite.

The night is still! The moon is low! Not e’en a zephyr Seems to blow. The coon with sack Clutched in his hand, Moves silently Across the land.

The chicken gives Another squawk! The coon has got her Like a hawk. The moon now breaks Forth into light, The coon and chicken’s Out of sight.

SEEMS DEY’S NO PLACE.

Well er coon kin go to kollege Git his head chucked full o’ knowledge, Till he knows ez much ez Solomon de wise. He kin study an’ summize, Count de stars up in de skies, Seems dey’s no place Fo’ de eddeekayted coon.

Tawk erbout yo’ eddeekayshun Gittin’ in de cullahd nayshun, Gittin’ “lighten” in de head an’ sich ez dat, Yo’ kin larn sah, till yo’ hat On yo’ head woan’ fit exzac’, Seems dey’s no place Fo’ de eddeekayted coon.

Eddeekayshun am all right Ef er coon kin git er sight ’Stead o’ makin’ bread an’ buttah by de hoe, He kood entah any do’ Whah he’s qualified to go. Seems dey’s no place Fo’ de eddeekayted coon.

He doan’ allus want to hoe, He wood like er little sho, Fo’ to git er little sweetness out o’ life; He has had er worl’ o’ strife, Allus struck by trouble’s knife. Seems dey’s no place Fo’ de eddeekayted coon.

All de coons kin cut dey pranks Fo’ to git into de banks, Wid de white fo’ks fo’ to handle wid dey cash Dat wood sorter spile de hash, Make er fraycus an’ er clash. Seems dey’s no place Fo’ de eddeekayted coon.

All de coons kin go to Yale, Larn Greek, Latin, by de bale, Larn to numbah all de hyahs up in dey head; Dey may read dis thing wid dread, Nufin’ else kin dey be said. Seems dey’s no place Fo’ de eddeekayted coon.

Ez I saunter ’roun’ de town, An’ I skim mah eyes eroun’, Whah de white fo’ks am in business ebbry where, Yo’ kain’t find er coon in dare Wid de white fo’ks sellin’ ware. Seems dey’s no place Fo’ de eddeekayted coon.

GOOD BYE, HONEY—GOOD BYE.

Gwine to leeb dis dear ol’ place, Good bye, honey; good bye! Time’s er flyin’, I mus’ make has’e, Good bye, honey; good bye! Hate to go, but I kain’t say no, It gives mah hea’t er pang o’ woe, Yo’ all’s mah fren’, not one’s mah foe, Good bye, honey; good bye!

Sistah Jane, an’ uncle Joe? Good bye, honey; good bye! I hope we’ll see us all sum mo’, Good bye, honey; good bye! We’s gittin’ ol’, we’s gittin’ gray, Ah days am dun’ fo’ makin’ hay, Ah steps cum slo’ we’s wastin’ ’way, Good bye, honey; good bye!

We’s had good times on dis ol’ place, Good bye, honey; good bye! We’s frollic’d in de possum chase, Good bye, honey; good bye! We’s picked de cotton, hoed de co’n, We’s picked de berries spite o’ thorns, We’s wocked at night, we’s wocked at morn, Good bye, honey; good bye!

Hain’t dat Miss Linndy, obeah dah? Good bye, honey; good bye! Sho’ it am; well, I declah! Good bye, honey; good bye! Cum an’ shake de ol’ man’s han’, Gwine to leeb ol’ massa’s lan’ ’Deed, Miss Linndy, yo’ look gran’, Good bye, honey; good bye!

Rastus? little Rastus, chile, Good bye, honey; good bye! Look ee dah, jes’ see him smile, Good bye, honey; good bye! Jes’ ez natshul ez his paw, De bes’ chile dat I ebbah saw, Got de mannahs ub his maw, Good bye, honey; good bye!

Whah is Massa, is he ’roun’? Good bye, honey; good bye! ’Pears’ I koch his footstep soun’, Good bye, honey; good bye! I ’fess it’s hard to leeb him now, To say good bye, I doan’ kno’ how, I’ll shake his han’, jes’ make er bow, Good bye, honey; good bye!

Mockin’ bird up in de tree? Good bye, honey; good bye! Yo’s sung er manny day to me. Good bye, honey; good bye! Er manny day dis hea’t o’ mine Yo’s cheered it wid yo’ song divine, An’ made de sunlight brighter shine, Good bye, honey; good bye!

Well, de way de thing am lookin’ To ol’ Hezzeekyah Yoon, Dis kentry’s gittin’ wussah Fo’ de po’ and he’pless coon.

Dey lynch him on de lef’, An’ dey lynch him on de right, Dey cum an’ git er niggah In de day an’ in de night.

Whut we gwine to do? Hain’t dey no whah in de lan’? Hain’t dey fo’ de niggah Not er kin’ an’ he’pin’ han’?

Oh de niggah’s got er moighty Tuff an’ thorny road to tread— Dey’s bullets, clubs an’ razzahs Allus flyin’ at his head. It’s er mer’kul all de niggahs Haben’ suffer’d dat same fate. De string up to de lamp-pos’ An’ de string up to de gate. When de signul’s gibbun Fo’ to rally ’roun’ de flag, Nebbah fo’ er minute Am er niggah seed to lagg.

De niggah hain’t rebelyus Though he doan’ git all things jus’; He’s loyal to his kentry, Nebbah habs betrayed his trus’. He allus takes de bitters ’Zactly lak he does de sweet, He goes right on light hea’ted, Wid er tew step to his feet.

Whut we gwine to do? Hain’t dey no whah in de lan’? Hain’t dey fo’ de niggah Not er kin’ an’ he’pin’ han’?

KAZE I KNO’ I KAIN’T STOP.

Summah breezes blowin’, An’ de sun am roas’in’ hot! Jes’ right am de meadows Fo’ to take ’em fo’ er cot! Grasses sof’ an’ downy, Am jes’ like er feddah bed! Hain’t er spot dat am mo’ ’vitin’ Fo’ er niggah lay his head!

Ah tell yo’ whut’s de mattah, Sah, de feebah’s mountain high. When ah ’fleck ub ah kun’dishyun Makes dis niggah sot an’ cry. To hyeah de fo’ks er tawkin’ How de niggah’s got to fare, Dey mob, dey burn an’ lynch him, An’ dey skin him lak er hare.

It’s true dey’s lots er niggahs Dat am wurfluss to de co’, De debbul wooden’ hab ’em Even inside ub his do’. But de Lawd in heaven knows Dat all de niggahs hain’t dat way, Dey’s lots dat’s good an’ hones’ An’ dey nebbah goes estray.

De niggah hain’t to blame— To cum hyeah he diden’ kyeah. De white fo’ks, why dey made him, Why dey fotch’d him obeah hyeah. An’ now to knock his head off Kaze he’s tryin’ to git erlong, Accawdin’ to my Bible, Why de whole thing ub it’s wrong.

De niggah loves dis kentry— Ebbry time he’ll put up fight. Fo’ it wheddah it am In de wrong ah in de right.

But er niggah, kain’t stop! Mus’ keep hoein’ at de crop! Out de weeds mus’ keep er pullin’ Till he’s ready, mos’ to drop!

White man take it easy, Am er livin’ lak er king! Free ez am de buzzahd, Doesn’t hab to do er thing! Niggah’d lak to togg up In his Sunday meetin’ dress, An’ jes’ lak de white man, Sot, an’ lay back, take his res’.

But er niggah, kain’t stop! Mus’ keep hoein’ at de crop! Out de weeds mus’ keep er pullin’ Till he’s ready, mos’ to drop!

Sumtimes git to ’fleckin’ Scratch dis head whah it doan’ itch! Axin’ why de Lawd, sah, Diden’ make dis niggah rich! But dey hain’t no use to kick, But jes’ keep er josslin’ ’long. Now an’ den I keeps er whis’lin’ An’ er hummin’ at mah song.

Kaze I kno’ I kain’t stop! Mus’ keep hoein’ out de crop! Out de weeds mus’ keep er pullin’ Till Ise’s ready, mos’ to drop!

Now an’ den I sortah Git er ticklin’ in mah heel! Fo’ to go to dancin’ At de ol’ Verginny reel! Soople ez a skeedah! Dance de jig fum night till morn, Nebbah stop er minute, bruddah, Fo’ an’ ache er fo’ er co’n!

But er niggah, kain’t stop! Mus’ keep hoein’ at de crop! Out de weeds mus’ keep er pullin’ Till he’s ready, mos’ to drop!

Oh, but how er dollah Is er moighty fren’, In de dead o’ wintah, Ef yo’ idle den. Winds dey may be howlin’, Whizzin’ th’ew de trees! Needen’ worry, dahky, Yo’ hain’ gwine to freez!

Summah is er flyin’, Breezes gittin’ cool! Beddah be er layin’ In yo’ wintah fuel! Leaves begin to fallin’, Harvestin’ is dun, Birds am now er troopin’ Soufward wid de sun.

Hoein’ time is obeah, Dahky take yo’ res’! Th’ow off wockin’ hahness, Don yo’ Sunday bes’! Fiddles an’ de banjos— Git ’em all in tune, ’Nipulate de ditties Gibbs de soul er boon!

In de spring an’ summah, Dahky whut yo’ dun? Ridin’ on de skershuns, Habin’ lots o’ fun? Dancin’ wid de ladies, Spen’in’ all yo’ got? Thinkin’ kaze it’s summah, ’Twill be allus hot?

Yo’ de kine cum Knockin’ on de cabin do’, Fo’ to get er sistance, Tell ’er tale o’ wo’. Den’s de time to sho’ yo’ We’s no easy thing, ’Videin’ fo’ yo’ stummucks Wid ah hoe earnin’.

Whut yo’ needs er lesson In de ’speerence school. Git de realizayshun Whah yo’ bin er fool. Den yo’ll git de idea, Dollah is yo’ fren’, Larn to be mo’ kyahful How yo’ money spen’.

WHEN DE FIAH AM KINDLIN’ HOT.

When de sno’ it am er fallin,’ Winds er whizzin’ down de lanes, An’ de fros’ it am er freezin’ Fo’ yo’ eyes erpun de panes, Whut am beddah den er neslin’ ’Roun’ er fiah dat’s roas’in’ hot? Fo’ er pickahninny dahky Hain’t er mo’ enchantin’ spot.

When de breezes am er moanin’ An’ de sun am sinkin’ lo’, An’ de gloomy clouds an’ shaddahs Geddah ’roun’ erbout yo’ do’; When yo’ hyeah de co’n er poppin’, See de cidah all er foam, In yo’ soul de joy an’ gladness Seems eroun’ erbout to roam.

An’ yo’ granny am er hummin’, Cat er purrin’ on de rug, An’ yo’ git er sniff de burbun Dat am steamin’ fum de jug— Umph! de berry ’maggahnayshun Makes er puson think it’s real. It am glory! Hesh yo’ mouf, sah, Doan’ yo’ ax me how yo’ feel.

All yo’ troubles an’ yo’ burdens Seems to take de swif’es flight! ’Pears yo’ berry soul am lif’ed To de blissful mountain heights! Whah de lan’s erflo’ wid honey, Streets an’ alleys paved wid gol’, An’ de simphonnies o’ heaben’s Got er sweetnes’ kaint be tol’.

Yo’ kin sing de song o’ Moses, Shout yo’se’f clah to de sky! Pickahninny’s den in cloveah, No time den to weep an’ sigh. Let de sno’ keep on er fallin’, Let de breezes whizz an’ moan, Longs er pickahninny’s neslin’ ’Roun’ er hot fiah ub his own.

When de rent cums due An’ yo’ haben got er dollah, An’ yo’ hab to hunt Fo’ er nuddah place to wollah, De wintah’s dun cum, An’ de coal pile’s sinkin’, Dey’s nufin’ in de cupboard An’ yo’ stummuck am er tinkin’,

How yo’ head wool geddahs! How yo’ hunt an’ scratch! Fo’ to skibbah up er dollah Beats de ol’ Sam Patch!

When yo’ sot an’ ’fleck, Seems befo’ yo’ keeps er bobbin’ De possum an’ de coon, An’ de peach an’ apple cobblin’. Yo’ dream bout summah, Wid de joocy wattah millun, Dat yo’ sotin’ in de middle An’ yo’ stummuck jes’ er fillin’,

How yo’ mouf does wattah! How yo’ stummuck jes’ jump! An’ yo’ eyes am all er twinkle An’ yo’ hump! hump! hump!

When de night cums on An’ dey hain’t er nuf de kibbah, While yo’ bunk an’ snooz Fo’ to keep yo’ fum de shibbah, De coal’s dun sinkin’ Till it am no mo’, De weddah am at zero, De worl am kibbahd in de sno’,

How yo’ head wool geddahs! How yo’ hunt an’ scratch Fo’ to skibbah up er dollah Beats de ol’ Sam Patch!

WHEN DE SUMMAH’S DUN CUM.

When de wintah’s dun gone An’ de summah’s dun cum, An’ de birds begin dey wahble An’ de bees begin dey hum, An’ de hills, de fields, de meadows Wid de verdure all am green, An’ de heaben’s panorama Am er mos’ enchantin’ scene,

Den er niggah kin sing! Den er niggah kin hum! Kaze de wintah’s dun gone, An’ de summah’s dun cum!

When de vines am climin’, Spreadin’ beauty on de run, An’ de cullahs o’ de lan’scape An’ de sky dey blen’ ez one, An’ de flowahs ez dey’s buddin’ An’ er blossom’ an’ er bloom, An’ de breezes fan dey petals Koch dey sweetes’ smellin’ ’fume,

How yo’ soul inspahs! How yo’ hea’t does tickle! Den er niggah am happy Ef he haben’ got er nickel!

When de craps am wavin’ An’ de tassel’s on de co’n, An’ de apples am er drapin’ An’ de sweepahtayters born, An’ de cabbage am er headin’, Swellin’ lak dey got de mumps, An’ de passnups am er peepin’ Winkin’ at yo’ hine de stumps,

How er niggah kin whis’le! How his soul does ’joice! ’Kaze it’s time fo’ de millun An’ it’s time fo’ de squash!

In de lonesum ub de night When de moon’s er shinin’ bright, Coon er sotin’ on er stump Picks de banjo, plinkertee plump! Sof’ly floats de mournful ’frain ’Cross de dewy, grassy main— Plinktee! plinktee! plinkertee plump! Picks de coon erpun de stump!

Ebbry win’ an’ ebbry breeze, Ebbry twig erpun de trees, Echoes wid de plinkertee plump! Ub de coon erpun de stump! Plinktee! plinktee! plinkertee plump! Picks de coon erpun de stump!

Ez de night glides slo’ly on, An’ de moon slips down fo’ dawn, An’ de veil draps fum de skies, An’ de worl’ opens its eyes, Dies erway de plinkertee plump! Ub de coon erpun de stump! Plinktee! plinktee! plinkertee plump! Stops de coon erpun de stump

BLISSFUL ANTICIPATIONS.

Jes’ gimme summah all de time, An’ lemme take it easy. Jes’ lay back in de cloveah beds An’ dream whah it am breezy. I doan kyeah fo’ no robe ner crown Ez long ez I kin wollah ’roun’ An’ nebbah hab to hoe de grown’. Ha! ha! yo’ thinks Ise lazy! I’d spawk an’ court Miss Lissy Jane— Umph! but I’d cut er spluttah! I’d tell her dis, I’d tell her dat, Fus’ one thing den er nuddah. We’d ramble whah de wild flow’rs bloom Dat fill de air wid sweet scent ’fume Whah dey’s no clouds an’ dey’s no gloom! We’d sot de worl’ to fiuttah!

I’d git mah banjo fum de wall An’ now an’ den go plinkin’! I’d make de dahky’s heels jes’ itch To dance ez fas’ es winkin’! I’d make her sing, I’d make her moan, I’d sen’ er tone to Gabriel’s throne, I’d play dem tricks befo’ unknown, I’d sot de fo’ks to thinkin’!

I kno’ yo’ thinks dis dahky slo’ An’ tawkin’ jes’ fo’ blowin’! An’ buildin’ castles in de air, An’ debbilment er sowin’. It’s jes, prezaxly lak I say, Jes’ shows Ise ol’ an’ shows Ise gray. Befo’ de Lawd! it’s almos’ day! To bed! de chicken’s crowin’!

PAWSON JOHNSON AT DINNER.

He’p you’se’f, mah bruddah, Jes’ make yo’se’f at home! ’Kaze yo’ am no stranger To Siss Wiggle Sloam. Go ’head on dat chicken, ’Kase it tissen skace! “Doan’ yo’ worry, sistah, I is in no has’e!

“Lan’ sakes, Sistah Wiggle, You’ treat me lak er king! Ha! ha! ’skooze me, sistah, One mo’ chicken wing! Tote me few dem waffles, Chittlins good an’ hot! Ebbah thing ise eatin’ Trabbles to de spot!

Lawd Gawd! Sistah Wiggle, I jes’ seed dat possum! Hiden’ an’ er grinin’ ’Hine dat sunflow’r blossom! ’Fo’ I’d let dat possum Git out o’ mah sight, Th’ow erside mah Gospel, To de las’ I’d fight!

Bruddah, kain’t yo’ sortah Gibb er little toas’? ’Deed I kain’t, Gawd knows it, Whah dey’s possum roas’! Feed de lambs, mah Sistah, Whut de good book say! Yo’s fulfillin’ Scripshah Treatin’ me dis way!”

Gitin’ sortah ’ristercratic Go ’way, mah honey! Sistah Jane, de ol’ roommatic! Go ’way, mah honey! Th’ow’d erway her dress o’ mattin’! Wearin’ silk an’ wearin’ satin’! Right in style, de lates’ patte’n! Go ’way, mah honey!