IX. Railroad Songs

IX. RAILROAD SONGS

THE Negro, an imaginative being, delights to personify the things that enter into his life. As in his work-songs he may hold dialogues with his hammer or his hoe, may apostrophize the tree he is cutting down, or the butter in the churn, so he makes a dramatic figure out of such a thing as a railroad train. That appeals to him for various reasons. Its rhythmic turn of wheels inspires a rhythmic turn of phrase in a folk-song. Its regularly recurring noises are iambic or trochaic like the Negro's patting of foot or clapping of hand — not dactylic or anapaestic, like some sounds in nature, the gallop­ing of a horse, for example. The Negro's spontaneous songs are almost wholly in two-quarter or four-quarter time, rarely with the three syllable foot. Perhaps that instinct harks back to the beat of drums in jungled Africa, or perhaps it merely satisfies some in­explicable impulse in the Negro soul.
The Negro has no dragon in his mythology, but he sees a modern one in an engine and train — a fierce creature stretching across the country, breathing out fiery smoke, ruthless of what comes in its path. It is a being diabolic and divine, or at least a superman in force and intelligence. It gratifies his sense of the dramatic with its rushing entrances and exits, as it feeds his craving for mystery, with its shining rails that may lead anywhere, to all imaginable adven­ture. The Negro, while often outwardly lethargic, is restless of heart; is it because he feels that he has never found his true place in life? And so the engine with its dynamic energy, its fiery dissatis­faction, which, if ill directed, may result in dangerous explosions, fascinates him, and he loves to sing about it. He rides it in imagina­tion more often than in reality. He delights in unconventional methods of transportation, and he speaks with easy intimacy of railroad magnates, as when he sings:
Jay Gooze said befo' he died, Goin' to fix his trains so The bums could n't ride.
He thinks of a train as one whom he knows, sometimes a friend, sometimes an enemy, but always a real being. He may admire the
engine's notable achievements, as in the song given by Edwin Swain, sung by the Negroes in Florida, and referring to a special called the "Alligator."
Railroad Song
Jes' lemme tell you whut de 'Gator done: LeP St. Louis at half-pas' one. 'Rived Port Tampa at settin' ob de sun. Gee! whoo! Tearin' up some dust!
Or if he wishes to express an idea of speed and ease of motion, he may compare a person's gait — perhaps actual, perhaps figurative — to that of his favorite train, as in the fragment reported by Professor W. H. Thomas, of Texas:
Run so easy and he run so fast, Run just like the Aransas Pass. Oh, baby, take a one on me!
The coming of a train may mean only the pleasurable excitement of a journey, in prospect or merely imagined, as in a fragment sung by Negroes in Angelina County, Texas. This, like many secular songs of the Negro, ends with religious enthusiasm.
Better git yo' ticket, Better git yo' ticket, Train's a-comm*. Lord-ee-ee, Lord-ee-ee! XJm-um-um-um-um-um-um-um.
Hold your bonnet, Hold your shawl, Don't let go that waterfall. Shout, Sister Betsy, shout!
The colored man may express a secret connection between himself and the train, as in the repetitious ditty given by Lemuel Hall, of Mississippi:
Don't you leave me here, Don't you leave me here! I 'm Alabama bound, I'm Alabama bound.
Don't you leave me here! Ef you do de train don't run.
I got a mule to ride,
I got a mule to ride. Don't you leave me here!

Or he may think of the railroad in terms of its relation to his sweet­heart, present or absent. A song reported by Wirt A. Williams, of Mississippi, shows entrancing imagination on the part of the dusky lover.
Got a train in Cairo
Sixteen coaches long; All I want dat train to do Is to fotch my gal along!
The colored man who was heard singing by Professor Howard Odum was a bit more ambitious. It is feared a Soviet government would disapprove of his proposed exclusiveness.
Well, I'm goin' to buy me a little railroad of my own,
Ain't goin' to let nobody ride it but the chocolate to the bone.
"The chocolate to the bone" is the description of the brown-skinned woman with whom he is in love.
The sheer mystery or the romantic suggestiveness that a train or boat possesses has a thrill for the Negro, as for everyone, of course — but in a greater degree for him. The hint of illimitable distances, of unknown objectives, of epic adventure by the way, inspires him to admiration — and to song. Mrs. Tom Bartlett sends a specimen which shows this quality. Mrs. Buie wrote out the music for it.
THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN AND THE TO' DAY TRAIN
The midnight train and the 'fo' day train,
Run all night long! The midnight train and the 'fo' day train,
Run all night longl The midnight train and the 'to' day train,
Run all night long!
They run until the break of day.
It's the same train that carried your mother away;
Runs all night long. It's the same train that carried your mother away;
Runs all night long. It's the same train that carried your mother away;
Runs all night long.
It runs until the break of day.
This is another of the " family " songs, a stanza being devoted to each relative in turn, so that the singing can be protracted indefinitely.
Mrs. Bartlett says, "On the 'all night long/ right at 'all/ there occurs what the Negroes call a 'turn/ that is, a drop or a rise, either one -— I can hardly describe it, but I am sure you are familiar with the change they make so often from a very high tone to a very deep, throaty tone. It is very pretty, and familiar to everyone who has heard Negroes sing."
The train may come in as cruel enginery of fate, to part a Negro from his beloved: a shining sword of fire, to cut the ties that bind one dark heart to another. The rails are steel, indeed, when the lover stands beside them and sees a train that leaves him behind but snatches away his "honey babe." Louise Garwood, of Houston, Texas, reports the tuneful grief experienced on one such occasion.
Well, ah looked down de railroad fuh as ah could see, Looked down dat railroad fuh as ah could see. Saw mah gal a-wavin' back at me. Saw mah gal a-wavin' back at me.
The Negro calls the train or the road by name, or by cabalistic initials, as if he were addressing an intimate friend. He omits the whimsical "Mister" or "Bre'er" by which he is wont to address an animal, and uses no honorary titles, as "Jedge" or "Colonel," or "Cap'n," which he confers upon a white man.
A permanent separation is bewailed in a fragment from Texas. There is real poetic poignancy in this stanza, it seems to me, as tragedy hinted but not told in detail.
Steam from the whistle, Smoke from the stack, Going to the graveyard To bring my baby back. Oh, my li'l baby, Why don't you come back?
Professor Howard W- Odum, in an illuminating article on "Folk­song and Folk-poetry as Found in the Secular Songs of the Southern Negro " (in the Journal of American Folk-lore, volume xxiv), gives a pathetic ditty.
Thought I heard dat K. C. whistle blow, Blow lak. she never blow before.
How long has 'Frisco train been gone? Dat's train carried my baby home.
Look down de Southern road an' cry, Babe, look down de Southern road an' cry.
The train may on occasion serve as witness of the grief of a folk-songster—may not be responsible for it, perhaps unsympathetic to­ward it, but be an observer of it. The headlight of an engine can see a great deal — has looked down on many griefs. If it wept over all the woes it witnesses, the tracks would be flooded. One must concede that a railroad track is not a soft pillow, as doubtless the "maker" of a song sent from New Orleans decided. Gladys Torregano, of Straight College, contributed this, through the courtesy of Worth Tuttle Hedden.
Sweet Mama
Sweet Mama, treetop tall,
Won't you please turn your damper down?
I smell hoecake burning,
Dey done burnt some brown.
I'm laid mah head
On de railroad track.
I t'ought about Mama
An' I drugged it back.
Sweet Mama, treetop tall,
Won't you please turn your damper down?
Sweet Mama is a term addressed to a lover, not a maternal parent, and the oblique reference to a damper doubtless comments on the dark lady's warm temper.
The singer overheard by W. H. Thomas chanting his "railroad blues " had felt the thrill of Wanderlust, as suggested by a train; but the remembrance that he had no money for a ticket chilled him. Truly, to suffer from the "rolling blues" and have no wherewithal to appease one's spirit, is a hardship. To long for escape from loathed circumstance, yet have no ticket, no simple little piece of cardboard that is so trivial, yet indispensable, is tragedy indeed.
Railroad Blues
I got the blues, but I have n't got the fare, I got the blues, but I have n't got the fare,
I got the blues, but I'm too damned mean to cry.
Some folks say the rolling blues ain't bad;
Well, it must not V been the blues my baby had.
Oh I where was you when the rolling mill burned down? On the levee camp about fifteen miles from town.
My mother's dead, my sister's gone astray, And that is why this poor boy is here to-day.
The train is an unfeeling observer in a couple of other songs given by Professor Thomas. The first is a Freudian transcript of a way­ward darky's desire, his picaresque ambitions, which, in truth as well as in this dream, are like to end in disaster.
I dreamt last night I was walkin' around, I met that Nigger and I knocked her down; I knocked her down and I started to run, Till the sheriff stopped me with his Gatling gun.
I made a good run but I run too slow,
He landed me over in the Jericho;
I started to run off down the track,
But they put me on the train and brought me back.
I don't know what the Jericho here referred to is, but Huntsville in the next song is a Texas town where a penitentiary is located, so the allusion is quite clear.
To Huntsville
The jurymen found me guilty; the judge he did say, "This man's convicted to Huntsville, poor boy, For ten long years to stay."
My mammy said, "It's a pity." My woman she did say, "They're taking my man to Huntsville, poor boy, For ten long years to stay."
Upon that station platform we all stood waiting that day, Awaiting that train for Huntsville, poor boy, For ten long years to stay.
The train ran into the station; the sheriff he did say, " Get on this train for Huntsville, poor boy, For ten long years to stay."
Now if you see my Lula, please tell her for me, I 've done quit drinking and gambling, poor boy, And getting on my sprees.
Rather a compulsory reformation, the cynical might observe; but perhaps the message might comfort "Lula" as indicating a change in mental attitude. The singer is reticent as to the nature of his offence against the law, but perhaps that detail seemed unimportant to him.
A railroad song given by Dr. Moore, of Charlotte, North Carolina, reveals a "dummy line" as the object of the songster's admiration, personified and credited with laudable exploits, as well as the wit­ness of the Negro's own discomfiture. The dummy, it might be ex­plained, is a small train running on a short track.
De Dummy Line
Some folks say de Dummy don't run,
Come an' lemme tell you what de Dummy done done:
She lef St. Louis at half-pas' one,
An' she rolled into Memphis at de settin' of de sun.
Chorus
On de Dummy line, on de Dummy line,
I'll ride an' shine on de Dummy line.
I'll ride an' shine an' pay my fine,
When I ride on de Dummy, on de Dummy, Dummy line.
I got on de Dummy, did n't have no fare;
De conductor hollered out, "What in de world you doin' dere?"
I jumped up an' made for de door,
And he cracked me on de haid with a two-by-four.
Chorus
DE DUMMY LINE 
  
  
 Another, which Mrs. Bartlett and Mrs. Buie contribute, has a more mournful suggestiveness. Look Where de Train Done Gone pictures a person left desolate beside the railroad track, following with yearning eyes a train that vanishes in the distance. 
 LOOK WHERE DE TRAIN DONE GONE 
  
  
 Look where de train done gone, Look where de train done gone, Look where de train done gone, oh, babe, Gone never to return!
Say, gal, did you ever have a friend? Say, gal, did you ever have a friend? Say, gal, did you ever have a friend? I has certainly been a friend to you I
Ain't got a friend in town, Ain't got a friend in town, Ain't got a friend in town, oh, babe, I ain't got a friend in town!
If I had a-lissen to what my mamma said,
If I had a-lissen to what my mamma said,
If I had a-lissen to what my mamma said, oh, babe,
I would n't a-been layin' round!
I heard dat whistle when she blowed,
I heard dat whistle when she blowed,
I heard dat whistle when she blowed, oh, babe,
I heard dat whistle when she blowed!
Blowed as she never blowed before, Blowed as she never blowed before, Blowed as she never blowed before, oh, babe, Blowed like my babe's on board!
I hope dat Katy train don't have a wreck,
I hope dat Katy train don't have a wreck,
I hope dat Katy train don't have a wreck, oh, babe,
An' kill my darlin' babe!
Tomorrow's my trial day, Tomorrow's my trial day, Tomorrow's my trial day, oh, babe, I wonder what the judge's goin' to say!
If I had a-died when I was young, If I had a-died when I was young, If I had a-died when I was young, I would n't a-had this hard race to run!
Mrs. Bartlett says, "Of course you know that the Negroes don't really say ' a-lissen' and l a-died,' but more correctly, as far as pro­nunciation is concerned, it should be 'uh-lissen' and 'uh-died.' But that looks unintelligible to anyone unacquainted with their soft speech. . . .
"Look Where de Train Done Gone is one of the most authentic 'blues.' The tune of the thing, as sung by the Negroes, is mournful enough to wring tears from the hardest-hearted. I believe I've been lucky enough to get it all for you. I send it as it was sung to me by Lottie Barnes, who also gave me the verses for Frankie,
"In Look Where de Train Done Gone, the first three lines are almost a monotone, until the mighty crescendo of the' oh, babe!' is reached!
The effect is most unusual, and I wonder if any musician, even so experienced a one as Mrs. Buie, who wrote it down, could tran­scribe it correctly. I think the words are tragic enough, but as sung by these Negroes — !"
In some of his songs the Negro thinks of the railroad as a place to work, the setting of his experiences of daily toil. He enjoys working for the railroad, for it gives him a sense of suggestive distances, a feeling of an immediate way of escape, if flitting becomes desirable or necessary. He will struggle to get or hold a railroad job, as being less monotonous than other means of livelihood. In a stanza given me some years ago in Texas, the singer hints of such an effort that one Negro makes despite the disproportion between his size and that of the burden he has to lift. The tie referred to is, of course, the rail­road tie. The Negro is evidently working on laying out a new line or replacing the ties of an old one.
Great big tie an' little bitty man,
Lay it on if it breaks him down!
If it breaks him down,
If it breaks him down,
Lay it on if it breaks him down!
A section-hand speaks of the difficulties of his job, in a song heard by Professor Thomas, of Texas, and reported by him in a paper read to the Folk-lore Society of Texas. Here the Negro shows his anxiety lest he work overtime, for he beseeches his boss, or "cap'n," not to lose sight of the hour, not to let him work past the stopping time.
Don't Let Yoitr Watch Run Down, Cap'n
Working on the section, dollar and a half a day, Working for my Lula; getting more than pay, Cap'n, Getting more than pay.
Working on the railroad, mud up to my knees,
Working for my Lula; she's a hard oP girl to please, Cap'n,
She's a hard girl to please; So don't let your watch run down, Cap'n,
Don't let your watch run down!
Lula is a generic name for the black man's beloved. He disdains the counter terms of affection and invents his own. Readers of O. Henry will remember his use of a fragment of folk-song about "my Lula gal." This song evidently dates back to a time when wages were smaller than at present.
Perhaps the best-known song of this type is the familiar I've Been Working on the Railroad, which is sung in many parts of the South. I do not know anything of its origin, nor have I been able to find anyone who does. Hinds, Noble, and Eldridge published an arrange­ment of it in 1900, under the title Levee Song (why Levee?), but they say they know nothing of its history or traditions. It may be a genuine folk-song or it may, as they suggest, have originated in some tramp minstrel show and been taken up as a folk-song. At any rate, it is colorfully expressive of the life of the Negro railroad "hand" in the South. The words, as I give them here, were contributed by Dr. Blanche Colton Williams, formerly of Mississippi.
I've Been Working on the Railroad
I've been working on the railroad,
All the livelong day; I Ve been working on the railroad
To pass the time away. Don't you hear the whistles blowing,
Rise up so early in the morn? Don't you hear the cap'n calling,
"Driver, blow your horn!" ?
Sing me a song of the city,
(Roll them cotton bales!) Darky ain't half so happy
As when he's out of jail. Mobile for its oyster shells,
Boston for its beans, Charleston for its cotton »bales,
But for yaller gals — New Orleans!
Railroad traditions in the South have their heroes, who are cele­brated in the Negro folk-songs. John Henry, or John Hardy, the famous steel-driller of West Virginia, about whom many ballads and work-songs have been made, is a notable example. A volume might be written about his legendary adventure; and the number of songs he has inspired would be extensive, indeed, as John H. Cox has shown in his study of the subject in his recent volume, "Folk-Songs of the South."
But he is not alone in this glory, for other Valhallic figures com­panion him in the Negro's songs—Casey Jones, Railroad Bill, Joseph Mica, and others rival him in the balladry of the rails. There have been current in the South many variants of the first, differing as to
local names, names of towns, or trains, but agreeing for the most part in the accident, the bravery of Casey, and the grief he left behind at his going.
I learned the history of this famous ballad only recently. Irvin Cobb was at my home one evening when a party was assembled to hear some of these folk-songs sung. He told us that Casey Jones was written by a Negro in Memphis, Tennessee, to recount the gallant death of "Cayce" Jones, an engineer who came from Cayce, Ten­nessee. He was called that in order to distinguish him from others of his name and calling, there being three engineers named Jones, one called "Dyersburg," one "Memphis," and one "Cayce," after the towns they hailed from.
Professor Odum gives the following version of Casey Jones, ac­cording to the Negro translation in an article spoken of before:
CASEY JONES 
  
  
  
 Casey Jones was engineer; Told his fireman not to fear, All he wanted was boiler hot; Run in Canton 'bout four o'clock.
One Sunday mornin' it was drizzlin' rain; Looked down de road an' saw a train. Foreman says, "Let's make a jump; Two locomotives an' dey bound to bump."
Casey Jones, I know him well, ToF de fireman to ring de bell; Fireman jump an' say, " Good-bye, Casey Jones, you're bound to die."
Went down to de depot track, Begging my honey to take me back; She turn round some two or three times — "Take you back when you learn to grind."
Womens in Kansas all dressed in red, Got de news dat Casey wus dead. Womens in Kansas all dressed in black, Said, in fact, he was a crackerjack.
The music for Casey Jones was given me by Early Busby.
Casey had a double in Joseph Mica, or else the two are one, for their experiences as metrically rendered by the Negro are extremely similar. Names, you know, as in the case of " Franky," have a trick of changing nonchalantly in folk-song, so perhaps there is no real cause for confusion here.
The Mica song, also given by Professor Odum in the article re­ferred to, belongs to Georgia and Alabama particularly.
Joseph Mica was good engineer; Told his fireman not to fear, All he want is water'n' coal; Poke his head out, see drivers roll.
Early one mornin,J look like rain, Round de curve come passenger train, On powers lie ole Jim Jones, Good ole engineer, but daid an* gone.
Left Atlanta an hour benin'; Tole his fireman to make up time, All he want is boiler hot; Run in there 'bout four o'clock.
Railroad Bill was a villain-hero of note in the South at some time, if any faith is to be put in the veracity of folk-songs — a person who seems to have cut a wide swathe in life as he does in song. He is, in
fact, like a big, wild engine himself, when, fired by "ole corn whiskey," he starts forth, to ride down any person or thing that in­terposes obstruction in his path. There is a movie rapidity of action and visibility of scene and characters about the stanza, for we fairly see Railroad Bill shooting the lights out of the brakesman's hand, and we see the policemen coming down the sidewalk two by two, "dressed in blue." We can guess at the emotional reactions of the brakesman, or of "ole Culpepper" — minor figures, of no interest in themselves, memorable in verse only because they encountered Railroad Bill. He it is who is the daring figure. What matter if the law did clutch him later on, and penalize him? He had had his glori­ous hour of corn whiskey and publicity. There are various Negro versions of Railroad Bill, the best that I have found being given by Professor Odum in the Journal of American Folk-lore.
It's Lookin' fer Railroad Bell
Railroad Bill mighty bad man, Shoot dem lights out o' de brakeman's hand — It's lookup fer Railroad Bill.
Railroad Bill mighty bad man, Shoot the lamps all off the stan' — An* it's lookin' fer Railroad Bill.
First on table, next on wall, Ole corn whiskey cause of it all — It 's lookin' fer Railroad Bill.
Ole McMillan had a special train, When he got there wus a shower of rain — Wus lookin' fer Railroad Bill.
Ev'ybody tole him he better turn back, Railroad Bill wus goin' down track —
An* it's lookin' fer Railroad Bill-Well, the policemen all dressed in blue, Comin' down sidewalk two by two,
Wus lookin' fer Railroad Bill.
Railroad Bill had no wife, Always lookin' fer somebody's life — An' it's lookin' fer Railroad Bill.
Railroad Bill was the worst ole coon, Killed McMillan by the light o' the moon — It's lookin' fer Railroad Bill.
Ole Culpepper went up on Number Five, Goin' bring him back, dead or alive, Wus lookin' fer Railroad Bill.
Standin' on a corner, did n't mean no harm, Policeman grab me by the arm — Wus lookin' fer Railroad Bill.
Professor E. C. Perrow publishes several versions of this song in his article, "Songs and Rhymes from the South," in the Journal of American Folk-lore (volume xxv). Some hint of the time when this song may have originated is found in the second stanza of one that he gives:
Railroad Bill cut a mighty big dash, Killed McMillan like a Hghtnin' flash, An' he'll lay yo' po' body daown.
Railroad Bill ride on de train, Tryin' to ack big, like Cuba an7 Spain, An' he'll lay yo' po' body daown.
Get up, ole woman, you sleepin' too late, Ef Railroad Bill come knockin' at yo' gate, He'll lay yo' po' body daown.
Talk about yo' bill, yo' ten-dollar bill, But you never seen a Bill like Railroad Bill, An' he'll lay yo' po' body daown.
The following is a version current among Mississippi Negroes, Pro­fessor Perrow says:
Railroad Bill said before he died He'd fit all the trains so the rounders could ride — Oh, ain't he bad, oh, the railroad man I
Railroad Bill cut a mighty big dash, He killed Bill Johnson like a lightning flash — Oh, ain't he bad, oh, the railroad man!
The name of the victim seems to vary, being in some sections Mc­Millan, and in others Bill Johnson, but he was indisputably dead when Railroad Bill got through with him. Whatever he was called, he did not answer!
Railroad Bill was certainly a good workman, for not only did he shoot out the lantern from a brakesman's hand and shoot the lights out of Ole McMillan, or Johnson, — or both, — but he could hit a
much smaller target as well; at least, the Mississippi Negroes so re­port, as Lemuel Hall tells me.
Railroad Bill got so fine
He shot a hole in a silver dime.
Railroad Bill, Railroad Bill,
Railroad Bill got sore eyes,
An' won't eat nothin' but apple pies.
The Negro sees in a train, not merely a temptation to travel, not simply a chance of a job, not only an engine of destruction or a force to tear him from persons he loves, not merely a witness of his joys and woes: he sees in it a symbol of spiritual life as well. The Negro is essentially religious, and his imagination is easily fired by the thought of eternity, the Judgment Day and the like, of destiny and doom. And so he frequently hitches them to his engine and starts another train of thought. The train may stand (or run, perhaps one should say) as the symbol of cheer, or of despair, according as the singer entertains hope of a fortunate outcome of the final testing.
An old song sent by Lincolnia C. Morgan, one of the Fisk Jubilee singers, and now supervisor of music in the Negro schools of Dallas, Texas, is of the first type.
THE TRAIN IS A-COMING 
  
  
 The train is a-coming, oh, yes! Train is a-coming, oh, yes! Train is a-coming, train is a-corning, Train is a-coming, oh, yes!
Better get your ticket, oh, yes!
Better get your ticket, oh, yes!
Better get your ticket, better get your ticket,
Better get your ticket, oh, yes!
King Jesus is conductor, oh, yes!
King Jesus is conductor, oh, yes I
King Jesus is conductor, King Jesus is conductor,
King Jesus is conductor, oh, yes I
I'm on my way to heaven, oh, yes!
I'm on my way to heaven, oh, yes!
I'm on my way to heaven, I'm on my way to heaven,
I'm on my way to heaven, oh, yes!
She makes comment on Negro songs in general:
" Analysis of the Negro folk-song shows a strict rhythm that is re­markable when we stop to consider that untutored minds with no musical cultivation gave them birth. There is an absence of triple time, due to the fact that these songs are usually accompanied with clapping of the hands, swaying of the body or beating of the foot. It is noticeable, too, that 'ti' and 'fa' do not often occur in these melodies, and there are many little 'turns' and 'curls' (which are in­jected by the singers in different places of the songs), which we can­not easily express in musical notes.
"I happened to be one of the Fisk Jubilee singers for several years, travelling in this country and abroad, and being daily asso­ciated with two of the original Jubilee singers, who had the training of the company in charge. From them I gathered a great many ideas about the proper rendition of these songs, and I have a great love and appreciation for them which I can hardly express.
"I send you two songs which I've never heard, only when my mother sang them to me years ago."
A couple of songs of the " gospel train" are given as sung by the Negroes in South Carolina, by Emilie C. Walter. The first is in the gullah dialect, and is sung in the rooms of those who are dying. Negroes in certain rural districts share this habit of song for the dy­ing, with various primitive folk — a custom sympathetic in purpose, of course, but one wonders how often it has hurried off an invalid who might otherwise have pulled through!
De Gospel Train Am Leabin'
De gospel train am leabin', An' I year um say she blow. Git yo' ticket ready, Dere's room for many a mo'.
Git on bo'd, little chillun,
Git on bo'd, little chillun,
Git on bo'd [little chillun?],
Dere's room for many a mo'.
DE GOSPEL TRAIN AM LEABIN' 
  
  
 chil - lun, Git.. on bo'd, Dere 's room for man - y a mo'.
In the chorus, " Oh, run, Mary, run!" in the next, we have a sug­gestion of the haste of one who fears to be left behind. All who have ever raced to catch a train know the despairful thrill that Mary must have felt.
De gospel train am leaving,
For my father's mansions. De gospel train am leaving, And we all be left behind.
Chorus
Oh, run, Mary, run,
De gospel train am leaving.
Oh, run, Mary, run,
I want to get to heaben to-day.
Miss Walter says that this and others of the songs she has given she knows from having heard her old mammy sing them. Mammy Judie Brown was a remarkable character in her devotion to her white folks and her courage. During the time of reconstruction, her young master was killed by the Negroes in the riots of 1876, and her own life was threatened by the Negroes because she went into the house to take care of him when he was wounded. She said she was not afraid "of debbil or Nigger," and remained in the house all night with his dead body. The Negroes had threatened to take his body away, and so she stayed to protect it. When she went on her mission, she left her little girl in the kitchen with the cook, who was so furious
with Mammy Judie that she let the child sleep all night on the cold hearth. She would not put her to bed or give her any covering. But Mammy Judie stayed by her young master's body.
Fear of being left behind is more openly expressed in a train song from McClellanville, South Carolina, sent me by Lucy Pinckney Rutledge.
Keep Yore Hand upon the Chariot
Oh, you better run, oh, you better run, Oh, you better run, 'fore the train done gone! Oh, keep yore hand upon the chariot, An* yore eyes upon the prize.
For the preacher's comin' an' he preach so bold, For he preach salvation from out of his soul. Oh, keep yore hand upon the chariot An' yore eyes upon the prize!
Miss Rutledge, who sends me the words for various songs, says: "The true pathos and weird beauty he in the music — and how I wish I might be fortunate enough to be transported to you to-night and sing them every one to you! In the glad days of the long ago, my two brothers, my sister, and I used to constitute a quartette that gave much pleasure to the listeners as well as ourselves. To­night, as I write, across the stillness of the quiet village I can hear sweet and haunting strains from a colored church where a con­vention is held, and I wish you were here to share the real delight with me."
Another song from the same contributor describes a crowd of people left behind, in the last stanza, when the train has really gone:
Reborn Again
Reborn, soldier, going to reborn again,
Oh, going to reborn again! Reborn soldier, going to reborn again,
Oh, going to reborn again!
Chorus Reborn again, reborn again,
Oh, you can't get to heaven till you're reborn again! Oh, going to reborn again! Oh, you can't get to heaven till you're reborn again!
Paul and Silas, dar in de jail; Oh, going to reborn again!
One watch while de other pray; Oh, going to reborn again!
Chorus
Never see such a thing since I been born,
Oh, going to reborn again! People keep a-coming and de train done gone,
Oh, going to reborn again!
Chorus
The necessity of taking the gospel train when one has the chance is delicately implied in a song sung for me by Benjamin F. Vaughan, manager and first tenor of the Sabbath Glee Club of Richmond, Vir­ginia, an organization that is doing much to express the beauty of the old spirituals.
The "maker" of this song felt that, since there was only one train on the line, one could not afford to miss it.
Every Time I Feel the Spirit
Chorus (whole club singing)
Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart, I will pray.
Bass Solo Upon the mountain my Lord spoke. Out of His mouth came fire and smoke.
(Glee club sings Chorus)
Bass Solo
Ain't but one train on this line, Runs to heaven and back again.
(Glee club sings Chorus)
Bass Solo I looked all around me and it looked so shine, Asked the Lord if it was all mine.
(Glee club sings Chorus)
A Holy Roller song sent me from Texas is specific as to the inclu­sion and exclusion of passengers on this important train. The list is rather astonishing, debarring as it does not only harlots and idola-tors, but"loafers." "No loafing allowed" around the celestial-sta­tion! Nor can pipe-smokers come on — though, as nothing is said of cigarettes and cigars, we may suppose that they are not regarded as
offensive. But snuff-bottles and beer-cans must be thrown away as being uncleanly for this train. And all is seriousness here, for no " joker " is permitted aboard. The Holy Roller train will perhaps not be overcrowded, one fancies.
Oh, Be Ready When the Train Comes In
We are soldiers in this blessed war, For Jesus we are marching on, With a shout and song.
Though the Devil tries to bother and deceive us. Oh, be ready when the train comes in.
Chorus
We are sweeping on to claim the blessed promise Of that happy home, never more to roam, Where the sunlight on the hills of endless glory. Oh, be ready when the train comes in.
We go into the highways and hedges;
We will sing and pray every night and day Till poor sinners leave their sins to follow Jesus; Soon He shall come to catch away his jewels. Oh, be ready when the train comes in.
We see the land of Beulah lies so plain before us,
From that happy home never more to roam. We have the victory through the precious blood of Jesus. Oh, be ready when the train comes in.
No harlot nor idolater, neither loafer,
Will be counted in on this holy train; Nor pipe-smoker, neither joker are permitted On this great clean train.
Lay aside your snuff-bottles and beer-cans,
Lifting holy hands to that promised land, Preaching everywhere the everlasting gospel To every nation and to every man.
Have both soul and body sanctified and holy, Then you live this life from sin and strife, Though ten thousand devils say you can't live holy. Oh, be ready when the train comes in.
A vivid picture of the train coming at Judgment Day appears in a song sent by Mrs. Clifton Oliver, of Dadeville, Alabama. She says: " This is more of a chant, sung very slowly, each sentence being sung
through the whole score. IVe put just two sentences, to keep it from being so long, though they sometimes make this last almost an hour."
He's Comin' This Away
Yonder comes my Lord, Yonder comes my Lord;
He's comm' this away,
He's comin' this awav. Yonder comes my Lord, Yonder comes my Lord;
He's comin' this away,
He's comin' this away.
Bible in His hand, Bible in His hand;
A crown upon His head,
A crown upon His head. Bible in His hand, Bible in His hand;
A crown upon His head,
A crown upon His head.
He's come to judge the world, He's come to judge the world,
Livin' an' the dead,
Livin' an' the dead. He's come to judge the world, He's come to judge the world,
Livin' an' the dead,
Livin' an' the dead.
Looks like Judgment Day, Looks like Judgment Day;
He's comin' this away,
He's comin' this away. Looks like Judgment Day, Looks like Judgment Day;
He's comin' this away,
He's comin' this away.
Yonder comes that train, Yonder comes that train;
He's comin' this away,
He's comin' this away.

Yonder comes that train, Yonder comes that train;
He's comin' this away,
He's comin' this away.
My mother's on that train, My mother's on that train;
He^s comin' this away,
He's comin' this away. My mother's on that train, My mother's on that train;
He's comin' this away,
He's comin' this away.
The stanzas are endless^ one being given to each member of the family, father, baby, sister, brother, and so forth. Mrs. Oliver says, "I want to sing it one way, but IVe tried three darkies of the old school and they all drop down to C."
A more sinister aspect of train-arrival is in another Holy Roller song from Texas. The little black train here represents Death, and the passengers for whom seats are reserved appear not to be crowding eagerly about the ticket-window. This train has no set schedule, but, like other public carriers, is uncertain in its time of arrival and de­parture. But a delay here brings forth no complaint against the management.
The Little Black Train
God said to Hezekiah
In a message from on high, Go set thy house in order
For thou shalt surely die.
Chorus
The little black train is coming,
Get all of your business right; Better set your house in order,
For the train may be here to-night 1
He turned to the wall and weeping,
Oh! see the king in tears. He got his business fixed all right,
God spared him fifteen years.
When Adam sinned in Eden
Before the birth of Seth, That little sin brought forth a son,
They called him conquering death.
Go tell the ballroom lady,
And filled with earthly pride, That death's black train is coming;
Prepare to take a ride.
This little black train and engine
And little baggage-car, With idle thoughts and wicked deeds,
Must stop at the judgment bar.
A poor young man in darkness
Cared not for the gospel light, Until suddenly the whistle blew
From the little black train in sight 1
"Oh! death, will you not spare me? I 've just seen my wicked plight. Have mercy, Lord, do hear me,
Please come and help me get right."
But death had fixed his shackles
About his soul so tight, Before he got his business fixed
The train rolled in that night.
The rich fool in his granary said,
"I have no future fears; Going to build my barns a little larger
And live for many years-
" I now have plenty of money, I expect to take my ease, My barns are over-running;
No one but self here to please."
But while he stood there planning,
The God of power and might Said, "Rich fool, to judgment come;
Thy soul must be there to-night!"
The Holy Rollers introduce impressive imagery into their songs, as in the one called The Funeral Train, and the directness of accusa­tion is calculated to make attending "sinners" rather uncomfort­able. This is reported as sung by Brother Josh Gray, but the serious­ness of the language leads one to believe that there was no " joshing," about the fate of those on board that train.
The Funeral Train
The funeral train is coming, I know it's going to slack,
For the passengers all are crying and the train is craped in black.
Chorus
You belong to that funeral train, You belong to that funeral train, You belong to that funeral train, Oh, sinner, why don't you pray?
Yes, when I get up to heaven with God, I'm going to remain Where death can never enter, and there won't be no funeral train.
Chorus
My friends, I want to tell you that you ought to try to pray, For the funeral train is coming to take somebody away.
Chorus
This train that I am singing about has neither whistle nor bell, But when you reach your station it will either be Heaven or Hell.
Chorus
There are many other railroad songs that might be given, but these are enough to illustrate the fondness the Negro feels for the track and the train. He seems to have overlooked the automobile in his folk-song, for I have found no instance of the auto-motive in any song. Perhaps that is because, in general, he has less intimacy with it — though now many Negroes drive cars for others, or possess their own. But Professor Thomas suggests that property-owning Negroes do not sing.
However that may be, at least we know that the colored man loves a train. He not only sings about it, but in his music imitates its rhythmic movement and its noise. Professor Odum has expressed this vividly in his article in the Journal of American Folk-lord from which I again quote by permission of author and editor. The Negro can make his guitar or banjo, which he calls a "box," sound just like a train.
<3f these train songs, Professor Odum says:
"This imitation is done by the rapid running of the fingers along the strings, and by the playing of successive chords with a regularity that makes a sound similar to that of a moving train. The train is n^ade to whistle by a prolonged and consecutive striking of the strings, while the bell rings with the striking of a single string. As the Negroes imagine themselves observing the train, or riding, thefervor of the occasion is increased, and when 'she blows for the sta­tion/ the exclamations may be heard: 'Lawd, God, she's a-runnm' now!' or, 'Sho God railroading5 or others of a similar nature. The train 'pulls out' from the station, passes the road-crossings, goes up grade, down grade, blows for the crossing, meets the ' express' and the mail-train, blows for the side-track, rings the bell — the wheels are heard rolling on the track and crossing the joints in the rails. If the song is instrumental, only the man at the guitar announces the several states of the run. If the song is of words, the words are made to heighten the imagination, and between the stanzas there is ample time to picture the train and its occupants."