1. A Plantation Chant
HIT’S eighteen hunder’d forty-en-fo’, Christ done open dat He’v’mly do’— An’ I don’t wanter stay yer no longer; Hit’s eighteen hunder’d forty-en-five, Christ done made dat dead man alive— An’ I don’t wanter stay yer no longer. You ax me ter run home, Little childun— Run home, dat sun done roll— An’ I don’t wanter stay yer no longer.
Hit’s eighteen hunder’d forty-en-six,
Hit’s eighteen hunder’d foiiy-en-eight,
Hit’s eighteen hunder’d forty-en-ten, |
If these are adaptations from songs the negroes have caught from the whites, their origin is very remote. I have transcrihed them literally, and I regard them as in the highest degree characteristic. [back] |