Pocahontas County Traditional Musical Heritage
Eddn Hammons
Eddn Hammons
(Spelled variously "Edn," "Eddn," and "Edden") (1874-1955) Eddn Hammons is probably the best-known of the Old-Time Pocahontas County fiddlers. Fortunately for us who come after, folklorist Louis Watson Chappell recorded Eddn's fiddle playing in August, 1947. These recordings are currently available on CD. You can download samples (and order CD's) at West Virginia University Press. Amazon.com also has the CD's:
The Edden Hammons Collection, Volume One and
The Edden Hammons Collection, Volume Two.
Hearing Eddn Hammons Again
At the end of June, a thunderstorm fried our satellite dish. If we ever come to miss the TV, or perhaps simply forget that there is "nothing good on," we'll replace it. Broadcast TV and radio are marginal to non-existent here, so until we break down, I'll be listening to recorded music when I need household noise.
Lately I have been hearing my Old-Time fiddle CD's as collections of music for listeners, rather than as tune-learning tools. Prominent among my recent fare has been Eddn (or Edn or Edden) Hammons (1874-1955), the famous Pocahontas County fiddler. Louis Watson Chappell recorded Eddn's fiddle playing in August, 1947. Chappell and other folklorists believed that Eddn's style and repertoire represented authentic, "unspoiled" British Isles culture. John A. Cuthbert's article is typical of this mind-set, which David E. Whisnant savages in his 1986 book, All That Is Native and Fine: The Politics of Culture in an American Region. Until recently, I was not a bit critical of the notion that Appalachia somehow preserved archaic British culture in a backwoods amber of isolation and deprivation. It's really a goofy idea, and condescending as well.
Now that I've been awakened from my dogmatic slumbers, I'm no longer listening for music "untainted" by exposure to phonograph records, radio and foreigners. When I hear these recordings, I hear a mature individual musician playing traditional tunes the way he wanted them to sound. I'm much more conscious of Eddn Hammons as a person with specific tastes and techniques. I don't recommend listening to all these tunes, one after another. There's madness there. Eddn Hammons has what my resident Old-Time musician calls "a mournful lick." It's truly evocative of the Williams River of Pocahontas County, where Eddn Hammons lived for much of his life. The forest is dense, the mountains are high and exposed to the wind, and of all the days and nights I've spent there, camping, hiking and playing music, I can't remember a single sunny day.
You can download samples (and order the Eddn Hammons CD's) at West Virginia University Press. Tunes available as samples include "Washington's March" and "Fine Time at Our House" and "High Up On Tug" and "Wild Horse." Amazon.com also has the CD's: The Edden Hammons Collection, Volume One and The Edden Hammons Collection, Volume Two.
Burl, Maggie, and Sherman Hammons
The Hammons Family included a number of musical members. In the late 1960's and early 1970's, several students of Old-Time music spent hours recording music and conversation with Hammons family members and friends. Dwight Diller has been making what he learned available ever since (more about him below). Carl Fleischauer and Alan Jabbour of the Library of Congress put together a 120-page booklet and record collection which is currently available on CD. Brothers Burl and Sherman Hammons and their sister Maggie Hammons Parker are recorded telling stories and riddles, singing songs and playing fiddle and banjo. Family friends Mose Coffman and Lee Hammons play on the recordings as well.
Traditional Appalachian Music: Today
Banjo: Sly Plot of the Devil or Vestigial Remnant of High Culture?
I had read in several sources, including Finding Her Voice: Women in Country Music, 1800-2000, that William Wells Newell (1900, The Journal of American Folklore) and Emma Bell Miles (1904, Harper's Magazine) were the first to publish articles about traditional Appalachian music. That's why I was surprised to find these paragraphs in John Fox's 1898 million-seller novel The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come. Fox seems to see the music as a metaphor for the mountaineers: "Rude, rough, semi-barbarous, if you will, but simple, natural, honest, sane, earthy--and of the earth whence springs the oak and in time, maybe, the flower of civilization." He often describes the hill people as if they were some raw material--soil to grow the fine civilization of the Bluegrass, or a commodity to be exported to the Bluegrass and molded into noble citizens like our boy Chad Buford. Significantly, Fox was involved with the Jellico coal mines, which also moved raw materials from the Appalachians down to the flatlands, where civilization turned it into money for the mine owners. With one of the first best-sellers of the twentieth century, I reckon you could say he found a way to export the mountaineers and turn a profit, too.
But I digress. Here is the earliest description I've seen of traditional Appalachian music and dance, along with an interesting suggestion that it reflects a remnant of noble culture, rather than a pernicious pastime for the missionaries to stamp out.
"Who was that a-pickin' that banjer?"
It was not often that Dolph showed such excitement, but he had good cause, and, when he saw Chad standing, shamefaced and bashful, in the middle of the floor, and Melissa joyously pointing her finger at him, he caught up the banjo from the bed and put it into the boy's hands. "Here, you just play that tune agin!"
Chad shrank back, half distressed and half happy, and only a hail outside from the first of the coming guests saved him from utter confusion. Once started, they came swiftly, and in half an hour all were there. Each got a hearty welcome from old Joel, who, with a wink and a laugh and a nod to the old mother, gave a hearty squeeze to some buxom girl, while the fire roared a heartier welcome still. Then was there a dance indeed--no soft swish of lace and muslin, but the active swing of linsey and simple homespun; no French fiddler's bows and scrapings, no intricate lancers, no languid waltz; but neat shuffling forward and back, with every note of the music beat; floor-thumping "cuttings of the pigeon's wing," and jolly jigs, two by two, and a great "swinging of corners," and "caging the bird," and "fust lady to the right CHEAT an' swing"; no flirting from behind fans and under stairways and little nooks, but honest, open courtship--strong arms about healthy waists, and a kiss taken now and then, with everybody to see and nobody to care who saw. If a chair was lacking, a pair of brawny knees made one chair serve for two, but never, if you please, for two men. Rude, rough, semi-barbarous, if you will, but simple, natural, honest, sane, earthy--and of the earth whence springs the oak and in time, maybe, the flower of civilization.
At the first pause in the dance, old Joel called loudly for Chad. The boy tried to slip out of the door, but Dolph seized him and pulled him to a chair in the corner and put the banjo in his hands. Everybody looked on with curiosity at first, and for a little while Chad suffered; but when the dance turned attention from him, he forgot himself again and made the old thing hum with all the rousing tunes that had ever swept its string. When he stopped at last, to wipe the perspiration from his face, he noticed for the first time the school-master, who was yet divided between the church and the law, standing at the door, silent, grave, disapproving. And he was not alone in his condemnation; in many a cabin up and down the river, stern talk was going on against the ungodly 'carryings on,' under the Turner roof, and, far from accepting them as proofs of a better birth and broader social ideas, these Calvinists of the hills set the merry-makers down as the special prey of the devil, and the dance and the banjo as sly plots of the same to draw their souls to hell.
(page 42, chapter III)
Now Play It Like You Mean It
I was looking for a reference on the Internet the other day, and I found this, a peripherally related topic. This is from Roadside Theater's Web site, an essay entitled Art in a Democracy, by Dudley Cocke. (Text from The Drama Review, Fall 2004, Social Theatre, Vol. 48, Issue 3)
Locating Oneself in a Tradition
Thirty-odd years ago, a famous folksinger from California came to the coalfields of central Appalachia to perform in a high school auditorium. A big crowd was on hand as a local string band opened the concert. The local band, rising to the occasion, had the audience's rapt attention. The famous folksinger followed with some success. Backstage, she made a point to congratulate the local band on their performance, noting that she, too, often sang from the same Appalachian song book. She went on to say how keenly the audience had been listening to their music and wondered what their secret was. "What is that little something extra you seem to have?" she asked repeatedly, each time more emphatically. The local band looked at the floor as she pressed for an answer. Finally the fiddle player spoke up, "Well ma'am, the only difference that I could tell was that you were playing out front of them ol' songs, and we were right behind 'em."
Aha! I said to myself. This person is getting close to that indescribable something that traditional Appalachian string bands have that is missing in so many "revivalists'" performances. Perhaps he's defined it for me. Then, he goes on to quote Ralph Ellison.
Ralph Ellison deftly spins the fiddler's point:
There is a cruel contradiction implicit in the art form itself. For true jazz is an art of individual assertion within and against the group. Each true jazz moment (as distinct from the uninspired commercial performance) springs from a context in which each artist challenges all the rest, each solo flight, or improvisation, represents (like the successive canvases of a painter) a definition of his identity: as individual, as member of the collectivity, and as link in the chain of tradition. Thus, because jazz finds its very life in an endless improvisation upon traditional materials, the jazzman must lose his identity even as he finds it. (Ellison [1964] 1995:234)
Don't get me wrong, now. I admire Ralph Ellison up one side and down the other. "True jazz moment" versus "uninspired commercial performance" sounds like he's getting to the heart of the matter. I just have no idea how "each solo flight" is like "successive canvases of a painter," or is a definition of the musician's identity. Maybe it's true, but I'm no wiser than before.
Maybe you can't do better than John Blisard, who advises aspiring musicians: "Now, play it like you mean it."
Clifftop
We're going to Clifftop this week for the Appalachian Stringband Festival. We call the event "Clifftop," which is the name of the geographic location. Some people from out of state call it "Stringband," which is part of the actual festival title. Our friends we camp with call it "Washington Carver," which is part of the campground's official name, "Camp Washington Carver."
It's an interesting festival. To my eye, there are more outsiders living the traditional Appalachian fantasy than there are traditional Appalachian musicians. Some native-born West Virginians have told me they enjoy going up to the campground and looking at all the "hippies". I had thought this invasion of Appalachian traditional ways was a modern phenomenon, (part of "The Great Folk Scare" of the 1950's and 60's) until I read All That Is Native and Fine: The Politics of Culture in an American Region by David E. Whisnant, 1986. (University of North Carolina Press. ISBN 0807841439.) It seems that meetings of Appalachian people and outsiders who think they admire, understand, and know how to fix Appalachian culture have been going on since the nineteenth century. Sometimes, the meetings are educational, profitable, or fun, but not always. I hope our trip to Clifftop will be a good one.
Smithsonian's Folklife
In contrast to yesterday's Library of Congress free resources, the Smithsonian Center for Folkife and Cultural Heritage is mostly a commercial site. They do have quality material for sale. I have several of their recordings and publications. However, I am disappointed that they they don't share any samples of traditional culture freely. Also, they list the Folklife Festivals for 2004 and 2005 in their upcoming highlights section. This seems like a bad sign. Here's something from their "About Us" section:
The Center's activities are funded by federal appropriations, Smithsonian trust funds, contracts and agreements with national, state, and local governments, foundation grants, gifts from individuals and corporations, income from the Festival, and Folkways product sales. The Center's experienced staff is culturally diverse and extremely productive, combining interdisciplinary scholars with technical specialists. The Center has distinguished advisors and cooperates with numerous international, state, local, and professional organizations.
Over the years, I had some short-term contract jobs at a couple of Smithsonian agencies in Washington, D.C. They are a strange mix of for-profit, federally-funded, and non-profit organization, and their administration seemed unintelligible when I worked there. Nevertheless, the Smithsonian Center for Folkife and Cultural Heritage is worth a look if you are ready to buy recordings.
Allegheny Echoes: The Summer Workshops in Pocahontas County The workshops are a way for West Virginia musicians, writers and artists to promote, support, preserve, and teach their art in a traditional way in a traditional setting. Students of all ages and abilities get together to learn and pass on the West Virginia version of Appalachian culture.
Old Time Fiddle Tunes
Library of Congress Folklife
Another bulletin from my "Internet Resources on Traditional American Music and Craft" (or whatever it turns out to be): The American Folklife Center, part of the Library of Congress. In contrast to some federal agencies and research institutions, the Library of Congress has been steadily improving and adding to its Internet resources for many years. Here's a quote from their "mission statement" (Does that phrase give you the creeps? It does me.):
"The mission of the Library of Congress is to make its resources available and useful to Congress and the American people and to sustain and preserve a universal collection of knowledge and creativity for future generations. The goal of the Library's National Digital Library Program is to offer broad public access to a wide range of historical and cultural documents as a contribution to education and lifelong learning."
The American Folklife Center has made many interesting collections accessible for free on their American Folklife Center Online Presentations. One of particular interest for me is Fiddle Tunes of the Old Frontier: The Henry Reed Collection.
"Fiddle Tunes of the Old Frontier: The Henry Reed Collection is a multi-format ethnographic field collection of traditional fiddle tunes performed by Henry Reed of Glen Lyn, Virginia. Recorded by folklorist Alan Jabbour in 1966-67, when Reed was over eighty years old, the tunes represent the music and evoke the history and spirit of Virginia's Appalachian frontier. Many of the tunes have passed back into circulation during the fiddling revival of the later twentieth century. This online collection incorporates 184 original sound recordings, 19 pages of fieldnotes, and 69 musical transcriptions with descriptive notes on tune histories and musical features; an illustrated essay about Reed's life, art, and influence; a list of related publications; and a glossary of musical terms."
Henry Reed was a West Virginia fiddler from Monroe County. (Go out my driveway, turn left, keep going, and you'll be there in under an hour.) Alan Jabbour and The Fuzzy Mountain String Band made his acquaintance when he lived just over the West Virginia border in Virginia. This band made some of Reed's tunes standards among the "hippies" in the 1970's. (The "hippies" usually call themselves "revivalists," or something more dignified. They are people who play traditional Appalachian music, but were not raised in that tradition. Local musicians call them "hippies" to be kind, and "horseflies and chicken chokers" to be unkind.) Some of Reed's unique tunes, like "Over the Waterfall," have been played so much by outsiders that West Virginia musicians won't play them on a bet.
The upshot of this overexposure is that Henry Reed is not as well-known locally as he deserves to be. The .mp3 files in Fiddle Tunes of the Old Frontier: The Henry Reed Collection are gems, given away for free, and represent a chance to hear Reed's "licks" and interpretations of standard tunes, and some unusual melodies that are not widely played any more.
I'm making my way through other American Folklife Center Online Presentations a little at a time. I'm very impressed with the quality and variety. I should also point out that the Archive of Folk culture sells some recordings taken from their collections. You can sample the "Online Presentations," and browse for things you need at Folk Recordings Selected from the Archive of Folk Culture. The photo above is on the cover of "The Hammons Family: Traditions of a West Virginia Family and Friends," a favorite recording/publication of mine, and one I quoted extensively in Haunted Pocahontas County, "Signs and Wonders from the Hammons Family."
More Resources
In the course of my search for "Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane" lyrics, I found some good traditional music resources on the Web. Because search engines return so many "ungood" folk music resources, I thought I'd present a little "Show and Tell" about sites I can recommend. I plan to start an annotated list of resources on my Web pages soon.
John Quincy Wolf Folkore Collection: "This Website contains documents, audio recordings, and other materials from the John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection, part of the Regional Studies Center at Lyon College. It is divided into eight topical sections...." Ozark Folksongs includes transcriptions and audio files for hundreds of songs collected from 1952-1970, and Sacred Harp features Wolf's recordings of Sacred Harp singings. Other interesting sections include "Memphis Blues" (recordings from Bukka White's visits to Wolf's classroom), "Life in the Leatherwoods," Wolf's folklore publications, and biographical materials.
I've been working my way through the song collection slowly. Even these small .mp3 files take a while with my dial-up connection. The first one I downloaded seems to be representative of the collection's high quality. "Little Log Cabin in the Lane Sung by: Gus Mahon" contains a temperance version of the song I've never heard anywhere else. Mr. Mahon is a fine traditional singer, and accompanies himself on the fiddle. As a bonus, he follows up with a very nice version of "The Eighth of January," a tune played here in Greenbrier and Pocahontas Counties.
Still More Resources
A few weeks ago, I was playing music with some friends, when the fiddler started playing "The Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane." No one could remember very many words, so the next day, I went through my song books. I found the song in four different books, representing three different versions. I also had various sets of lyrics for "Little Old Sod Shanty on the Plain" and "Little Joe the Wrangler." Now, from fifteen years of faithful listening to The Dick Spotswood Show, I know that "Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane" is a composed song, by William Shakespeare Hays. "Little Old Sod Shanty on the Plain" is a nineteenth century parody, and various versions appear in folk song collections, like Vance Randolph's and the Lomaxes'. "Little Joe the Wrangler," which uses the same melody, was written by N. Howard (Jack) Thorp in 1908. It's my favorite cowboy ballad, and it has an anonymous parody, "Little Joe the Wrangler's Sister Nell." (When I say parody, I don't mean to imply that these songs are funny. Both cowboy ballads are tear-jerkers for sure.)
All this started me on an Internet search for "definitive" lyrics for "Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane." Here's what I found.
- University of North Carolina Library Southern Folklife Collection contains many fascinating things, and is worth a visit. I found a sound snippet (.mp3 format) of Riley Puckett's 1924 recording of the song.
- Public Domain Music contains "copyrighted MIDI files, and text files of their lyrics, created by Benjamin Robert Tubb based on original sheet music sources in the public domain." There are many interesting things here as well, but my interest is in the page devoted to Will Hays, including a brief bio, photo, and composition lists. Hayes original lyrics are available.
- A little more information about Hays is available at Civil War Poetry.
Concertina Links
- The Concertina Connection. I had all my concertinas restored by Wim Wakker. He did a wonderful, wonderful job. If you'd like to see a picture of my "main squeeze," a Wheatstone treble, look through the "Restoration" section under Replating Metal Ends. Mr. Wakker is a gifted musician, and the Web site has wonderful resources for the English concertina player.
- Wendy Morrison. Wendy is an amazing musician, and willing to take on hopeless cases. I took music lessons from Wendy from 1992 until I moved away from the Washington D.C. area. Her public performances these days are more often on the piano accordion than the English concertina, but I don't believe there's anyone who can hold a candle to her in playing traditional music on the English concertina. If there's anything good about my concertina playing, you can chalk it up to Wendy.
Dickens' Accordion
I've been reading Fred Kaplan's 1988 book, Dickens : A Biography. I was moved to run out and buy it not long after it was published, starving graduate student though I was. Strangely, I didn't begin to read it until this year. To my surprise, the New York Times Book Review articles that had inflamed my interest were still folded and tucked inside the end-papers. It is a fascinating book, although I wish I had waited to buy it until now, when cheap used copies are available. I could have bought a lot of groceries with that $24.95 back in grad school. It is a long, dense book, and the first half now bristles with little slips of paper and notes to myself. I have been particularly interested in the sections that deal with his American visits and his interest in "ragged schools" and social reform. But today, I present his interest in the accordion, acquired on his first American trip. (That's Kaplan's spelling of "accordian." I don't know if it's a typo, or if it has some arcane significance.)
Ironically, having come miserably on a British steamship, he returned happily and comfortably on an American sailing vessel that left New York on June 2, 1842. On shipboard, he played perpetually on an accordian that he had bought in March and on which every night he had played "Home Sweet Home" as they had traveled through America.
There's nothing like playing your squeezebox "perpetually" in a confined space to win friends and influence people. Concertina practice has contributed significantly to my own popularity.
The Carter Family
- The Carter Fold. I visited
the Carter Fold a few years ago, and had a wonderful time. They describe themselves thus:
The Carter Family Memorial Music Center, a non-profit organization, serves fans and supporters of old-time country and folk music through the presentation of weekly performances at the Carter Family Fold, in Hiltons, Virginia. It also honors the memory of the first family of country music, the legendary Carter Family (A.P. Carter, Sara Carter, and Maybelle Carter), whose first recordings (in 1927) are credited with giving birth to the commercial country music industry. The Carter Family Memorial Music Center was founded and is directed by Janette Carter, daughter of A.P. and Sara, who with Sara's cousin Maybelle, comprised the original Carter Family.
- The Carter Family: Will the Circle Be Unbroken: A Web page to accompany the PBS American Experience episode by that name.
The production draws upon rarely seen photographs, memorabilia and archival footage to tell the bittersweet story of these influential musical pioneers whose songs and style laid the foundations for American folk, country and bluegrass music.
It includes a synopsis of the film, program transcript, and a list of books, articles, and Web sites relating to the Carter Family, as well as photos, sound clips and a useful Carter Family time line.
Nothing From Nothing's the Greer County Fare (Or "How I Named My Blog")
When I was casting about for something to call this weblog, this song came to mind. It's a nineteenth century traditional ditty about homesteading. I like the phrase, "Nothing from nothing's the Greer County fare," because I've never seen it written out, and I don't know if it's "fare" or "fair." (The Lomax versions of this song don't include that couplet.) I have fewer complaints about the Pocahontas County fare than this singer has about Greer County, but the fare is sometimes only fair....well, never mind. It's a dandy song, and Greer County is an interesting place, because it has been part of Texas and is now part of Oklahoma.
Starving to Death on a Government ClaimMy name is Bill Parsons, a bachelor I am;
You'll find me out West on an elegant plan.
You'll find me out West in a county of fame,
Starving to death on a government claim.
(Chorus)
Hurrah for Greer County, the land of the free,
The home of the grasshopper, bedbug and flea.
I'll sing of its praises, I'll tell of its fame
While starving to death on a government claim.
My house it is built of the natural sod;
My walls are erected according to God;
My roof has no pitch but is level and plain;
You'll always get wet if it happens to rain.
(Chorus)
My clothes they are ragged, my language is rough.
My bread is corn dodger, my goodness how tough!
Nothing to eat, and nothing to wear:
Nothing from nothing's the Greer County fare.
(Chorus)
How happy am I when I go to my bed;
A rattlesnake hisses a tune at my head.
A gay little centipede, free from all care,
Creeps out of my pillow and into my hair.
(Chorus)
Come all you homesteaders, take warning by me:
Don't live with the grasshopper, bedbug and flea.
I'm going back East, to find me a wife,
And quit this corn dodger the rest of my life.
(Chorus)
Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane
With all the Web sites I've been visiting looking for "Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane" lyrics, I should report that I found what I was looking for, sort of. Below is a bluegrasser's version of the way the song is commonly sung today. I've corrected some misspellings and some words that didn't make sense. One of the good things about lyrics collections on the Internet is that anyone that knows something can make it available. One of the bad things about lyrics collections on the Internet is that anyone who thinks he knows something can slap it up without checking or editing. The more popular a topic is, it seems, the more mis-information is available. Bluegrass songs seem to be popular enough to accrue a lot of junk.
Oh I'm gettin' old and feeble and I cannot work no more My rusty-bladed hoe I've laid to rest. And my papa and my mama they are sleepin' side by side. Their spirits now are roaming with the blest. CHORUS: Oh the chimney's fallin' down and the roof is all caved in, Lettin' in the sunshine and the rain. And the only friend I've got left is that good old dog of mine In the little old log cabin in the lane. Oh the path is all growed up now that led around the hill; The fences they have all gone to decay. And the creek is all dried up now where we used to go to mill, And time has changed its course another way. CHORUS Oh I ain't got long to stay here; what little time I've got I want to rest content wile I remain. 'Til death shall call this dog and me to find a better home Than this little old log cabin in the lane. CHORUS
Below are Will Hays lyrics for the original song. As you can see, they are in minstrel show fake dialect, which these days is considered fairly offensive. The "modern" version looses this problematic feature, but it also gives up the poignant content. Singing the modern version, I imagine an older man living a simple, contented life in his old home, with his faithful dog. The original version is the voice of an elderly freed slave, slowly starving to death on the abandoned plantation. It's a strange mixture of contempt (the fake dialect) and pity.
"The Little Old Cabin in the Lane" (1871) As Sung by Manning's Minstrels. Words & Music by William Shakespeare Hays, 1837-1907 1. I'm getting old and feeble now, I cannot work no more, I've laid de rusty bladed hoe to rest, Ole massa an' ole miss's am dead, dey're sleepin' side by side, Deir spirits now are roaming wid de blest; De scene am changed about de place, de darkies are all gone, I'll neber hear dem singin in the cane, And I'se de only one dat's left wid dis ole dog ob mine, In de little old log cabin in de lane. CHORUS De chimney's falling down, and de roof is cavin' in, I aint got long round her to remain, But de angels watches over me when I lays down to sleep, In de little old log cabin in de lane. 2. Dar was a happy time to me, 'twas many years ago, When de darkies used to gather round de door, When dey used to dance an' sing at night, I played de ole banjo, But alas, I cannot play it anymore. De hinges dey got rusted an' de door has tumbled down, And de roof lets in de sunshine an' de rain, An' de only friend I've got now is dis good ole dog ob mine, In de little old log cabin in de lane. (CHORUS) 3. De footpath now is coverd o'er dat led us round de hill, And de fences all are going to decay, An' de creek is all dried up where we used to go to mill, De time has turned its course an-od-der way. But I aint got long to stay here, and what little time I got, I'll try and be content-ed to remain Till death shall call my dog an' me to find a better home Dan dat little old log cabin in de lane. (CHORUS)
Little Joe the Wrangler
As part of my "Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane" lyric search, I hauled out my copy of Songs of the Cowboys, compiled by N. Howard (Jack) Thorp. This is a favorite song of mine, but I learned the words long before I ever found Thorp's book, and I don't have them quite right. The song appears in many collections of "traditional" songs (usually without attribution) and with various manglings of meaning. For example, Joe is often wearing "broken shoes," rather than "brogan shoes." I assume this is from people who don't know what brogans are. Another common deviation is that Joe is beaten by his stepfather, rather than stepmother, as Thorp wrote it. To me this is a radical change of meaning--a woman would have a hard time beating a teenage boy. Thorp's Little Joe was probably a younger child. Boys as young as eight worked cattle drives at the turn of the twentieth century. This is such an unattractive fact that people have probably suprpessed it, especially when we see what happens to poor Little Joe.
The detailed description of where Thorp first wrote and performed is probably provided because so many people believed it was a traditional song based on a particular incident. Many people who never met Thorp were certain they knew the song's author and the "real" Little Joe.
Little Joe the Wrangler
by N. Howard Thorp
Written by me on trail of herd of O Cattle from Chimney Lake, New Mexico to Higgins, Texas, 1898. On trail were the following men, all from Sacramento Mountains, or Crow Flat: Pap Logan, Bill Blevens, Will Brownfield, Will Fenton, Lije Colfelt, Tom Mews, Frank Jones, and myself. It was copyrighted and appeared in my first edition of "Songs of the Cowboys," published in 1908.
Little Joe, the wrangler, will never wrangle more; His days with the "remuda"--they are done. T'was a year ago last April he joined the outfit here, A little "Texas stray" and all alone. T'was long late in the evening he rode up to the herd On a little old brown pony he called Chow; With his brogan shoes and overalls a harder-looking kid, You never in your life had seen before. His saddle 't was a Southern kack built many years ago, An O.K. spur on one foot idly hung, While his "hot roll" in a cotton sack was loosely tied behind And a canteen from the saddle horn he'd slung. He said he had to leave his home, his daddy'd married twice, And his new ma beat him every day or two' So he saddled up old Chow one night and "lit a shuck" this way-- Thought he'd try and paddle now his own canoe. Said he'd try and do the best he could if we'd only give him work, Though he didn't know "straight" up about a cow; So the boss he cut him out a mount and kinder put him on, For he sorter liked the little stray somehow. Taught him how to herd the horses and learn to know them all, To round 'em up by daylight; if he could To follow the chuck-wagon adn to always hitch the team And help the "cosinero" rustle wood. We'd driven to Red River and the weather had been fine; We were camped down on the south side in a bend, When a norther commenced blowing and we doubled up our guards, For it took all hands to hold the cattle then. Little Joe, the wrangler, was called out with the rest, And scarcely had the kid got to the herd, When the cattle they stampeded; like a hailstorm, long the flew, And all of us were riding for the lead. 'Tween the streaks of lightning we could see a horse far out ahead-- 'T was little Joe, the wrangler, in the lead; He was riding "Old Blue Rocket" with his slicker 'bove his head, Trying to check the leaders in their speed. At last we got them milling and kinder quieted down, And the extra guard back to the camp did go; But one of them was missin', and we all knew at a glance 'T was our little Texas stray--poor Wrangler Joe. Next morning just at sunup we found where Rocket fell, Down in a washout twenty feet below; Beneath his horse, mashed to a pulp, his spurs had rung the knell For our little Texas stray--poor Wrangler Joe.