De woman flew to fightin’ ’im right off. She fought ’im frightenin’ but he beat her. She got her wind and tried ’im agin but he whipped her agin. She got herself together and made de third try on him vigorous but he beat her every time. He was so proud he could whip ’er at last, dat he just crowed over her and made her do a lot of things she didn’t like. He told her, “Long as you obey me, Ah’ll be good to yuh, but every time yuh rear up Ah’m gointer put plenty wood on yo’ back and plenty water in yo’ eyes.”
De woman was so mad she went straight up to Heben and stood befo’ de Lawd. She didn’t waste no words. She said, “Lawd, Ah come befo’ you mighty mad t’day. Ah want back my strength and power Ah useter have.”
“Woman, you got de same power you had since de beginnin’.”
“Why is it then, dat de man kin beat me now and he useter couldn’t do it?”
“He got mo’ strength than he useter have. He come and ast me for it and Ah give it to ’im. Ah gives to them that ast, and you ain’t never ast me for no mo’ power.”
“Please suh, God, Ah’m astin’ you for it now. Jus’ gimme de same as you give him.”
God shook his head. “It’s too late now, woman. Whut Ah give, Ah never take back. Ah give him mo’ strength than you and no matter how much Ah give you, he’ll have mo’.”
De woman was so mad she wheeled around and went on off. She went straight to de devil and told him what had happened.
He said, “Don’t be dis-incouraged, woman. You listen to me and you’ll come out mo’ than conqueror. Take dem frowns out yo’ face and turn round and go right on back to Heben and ast God to give you dat bunch of keys hangin’ by de mantel-piece. Then you bring ’em to me and Ah’ll show you what to do wid ’em.”
So de woman climbed back up to Heben agin. She was mighty tired but she was more out-done that she was tired so she climbed all night long and got back up to Heben agin. When she got befo’ de throne, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouf.
“O Lawd and Master of de rainbow, Ah know yo’ power. You never make two mountains without you put a valley in between. Ah know you kin hit a straight lick wid a crooked stick.”
“Ast for whut you want, woman.”
“God, gimme dat bunch of keys hangin’ by yo’ mantelpiece.”
“Take ’em.”
So de woman took de keys and hurried on back to de devil wid ’em. There was three keys on de bunch. Devil say, “See dese three keys? They got mo’ power in ’em than all de strength de man kin ever git if you handle ’em right. Now dis first big key is to de do’ of de kitchen, and you know a man always favors his stomach. Dis second one is de key to de bedroom and he don’t like to be shut out from dat neither and dis last key is de key to de cradle and he don’t want to be cut off from his generations at all. So now you take dese keys and go lock up everything and wait till he come to you. Then don’t you unlock nothin’ until he use his strength for yo’ benefit and yo’ desires.”
De woman thanked ’im and tole ’im, “If it wasn’t for you, Lawd knows whut us po’ women folks would do.”
She started off but de devil halted her. “Jus’ one mo’ thing: don’t go home braggin’ ’bout yo’ keys. Jus’ lock up everything and say nothin’ until you git asked. And then don’t talk too much.”
De woman went on home and did like de devil tole her. When de man come home from work she was settin’ on de porch singin’ some song ’bout “Peck on de wood make de bed go good.”
When de man found de three doors fastened what useter stand wide open he swelled up like pine lumber after a rain. First thing he tried to break in cause he figgered his strength would overcome all obstacles. When he saw he couldn’t do it, he ast de woman, “Who locked dis do’?”
She tole ’im, “Me.”
“Where did you git de key from?”
“God give it to me.”
He run up to God and said, “God, woman got me locked ’way from my vittles, my bed and my generations, and she say you give her the keys.”
God said, “I did, Man, Ah give her de keys, but de devil showed her how to use ’em!”
“Well, Ole Maker, please gimme some keys jus’ lak ’em so she can’t git de full control.”
“No, Man, what Ah give Ah give. Woman got de key.”
“How kin Ah know ’bout my generations?”
“Ast de woman.”
So de man come on back and submitted hisself to de woman and she opened de doors.
He wasn’t satisfied but he had to give in. ’Way after while he said to de woman, “Le’s us divide up. Ah’ll give you half of my strength if you lemme hold de keys in my hands.”
De woman thought dat over so de devil popped and tol her, “Tell ’im, naw. Let ’im keep his strength and you keep yo’ keys.”
So de woman wouldn’t trade wid ’im and de man had to mortgage his strength to her to live. And dat’s why de man makes and de woman takes. You men is still braggin’ ’bout yo’ strength and de women is sittin’ on de keys and lettin’ you blow off till she git ready to put de bridle on you.
B. Moseley looked over at Mathilda and said, “You just like a hen in de barnyard. You cackle so much you give de rooster de blues.”
Mathilda looked over at him archly and quoted:
Stepped on a pin, de pin bent
And dat’s de way de story went.
“Y’all lady people ain’t smarter than all men folks. You got plow lines on some of us, but some of us is too smart for you. We go past you jus’ like lightnin’ thru de trees,” Willie Sewell boasted. “And what make it so cool, we close enough to you to have a scronchous time, but never no halter on our necks. Ah know they won’t git none on dis last neck of mine.”
“Oh, you kin be had,” Gold retorted. “Ah mean dat abstifically.”
“Yeah? But not wid de trace chains. Never no shack up. Ah want dis tip-in love and tip yo’ hat and walk out. Ah don’t want nobody to have dis dyin’ love for me.”
Richard Jones said: “Yeah, man. Love is a funny thing; love is a blossom. If you want yo’ finger bit poke it at a possum.”
Jack Oscar Jones, who had been quiet for some time, slumped way down in his chair, straightened up and said, “Ah know a speech about love.”
Ruth Marshall laughed doubtfully. “Now, Jack, you can’t make me b’lieve you know de first thing about no love.”
“Yeah he do, too,” Clara, Jack’s wife defended.
“Whut do he know, then?” Ruth persisted.
“Aw, Lawd,” Clara wagged her head knowingly. “You ain’t got no business knowing dat. Dat’s us business. But he know jus’ as much about love as de nex’ man.”
“You don’t say!” Johnnie Mae twitted her sister-in-law. “Blow it out, then, Jack, and tell a blind man somethin’.”
“Ah’m gointer say it, then me and Zora’s goin’ out to Montgomery and git up a cool watermelon, ain’t we, Zora?”
“If you got de price,” I came back. “Ah got de car so all we need is a strong determination and we’ll have melon.”
“No, Zora ain’t goin’ nowhere wid my husband,” Clara announced. “If he got anything to tell her—it’s gointer be right here in front of me.”
Jack laughed at Clara’s feigned jealousy and recited:
SONG POEM
When the clock struck one I had just begun. Begun with Sue, begun with Sal, begun with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck two, I was through, I was through with Sue, through with Sal, through with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck three I was free, free with Sue, free with Sal, free with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck four I was at the door, at the door with Sue, at the door with Sal, at the door with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck five I was alive, alive with Sue, alive with Sal, alive with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck six I was fixed, fixed with Sue, fixed with Sal, fixed with that pretty J
ohnson gal.
When the clock struck seven I was even, even with Sue, even with Sal, even with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck eight I was at your gate, gate with Sue, gate with Sal, gate with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck nine I was behind, behind with Sue, behind with Sal, behind with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck ten I was in the bin, in the bin with Sue, in the bin with Sal, in the bin with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck eleven, I was in heaven, in heaven with Sue, in heaven with Sal, in heaven with that pretty Johnson gal.
When the clock struck twelve I was in hell, in hell with Sue, in hell with Sal, in hell with that pretty Johnson gal.
“Who was all dis Sue and dis Sal and dat pretty Johnson gal?” Clara demanded of Jack.
“Dat ain’t for you to know. My name is West, and Ah’m so different from de rest.”
“You sound like one man courtin’ three gals, but Ah know a story ’bout three mens courtin’ one gal,” Shug commented.
“Dat’s bogish,”8 cried Bennie Lee thickly.
“Whut’s bogish?” Shug demanded. She and Bennie were step-brother and sister and they had had a lawsuit over the property of his late father and her late mother, so a very little of Bennie’s sugar would sweeten Shug’s tea and vice versa.
“Ah don’t want to lissen to no ole talk ’bout three mens after no one ’oman. It’s always more’n three womens after every man.”
“Well, de way Ah know de story, there was three mens after de same girl,” Shug insisted. “You drunk, Bennie Lee. You done drunk so much of dis ole coon dick till you full of monkies.”
“Whut you gointer do?” Bennie demanded. “Whut you gointer do?” No answer was expected to this question. It was just Bennie Lee’s favorite retort. “De monkies got me, now whut you gointer do?”
“Ah ain’t got you to study about, Bennie Lee. If God ain’t payin’ you no mo’ mind than Ah is, youse in hell right now. Ah ain’t talkin’ to you nohow. Zora, you wanter hear dis story?”
“Sure, Shug. That’s what Ah’m here for.”
“Somebody’s gointer bleed,” Bennie Lee threatened. Nobody paid him any mind.
“God knows Ah don’t wanter hear Shug tell nothin’,” Bennie Lee complained.
“Ah wish yo’ monkies would tell you to go hide in de hammock and forgit to tell you de way home.” Shug was getting peeved.
“You better shut up befo’ Ah whip yo’ head to de red. Ah wish Ah was God. Ah’d turn you into a blamed hawg, and then Ah’d concrete de whole world over so you wouldn’t have not one nary place to root.”
“Dat’s dat two-bits in change you got in yo’ pocket now dat’s talkin’ for you. But befo’ de summer’s over you’ll be rootin’ lak a hawg. You already lookin’ over-plus lak one now. Don’t you worry ’bout me.”
Bennie Lee tried to ask his well-known question but the coon dick was too strong. He mumbled down into his shirt bosom and went to sleep.
THREE
Youse in de majority, now Shug,” B. Moseley said, seeing Bennie asleep. “Le’s hear ’bout dat man wid three women.”
Shug said:
Naw, it was three mens went to court a girl, Ah told you. Dis was a real pretty girl wid shiny black hair and coal black eyes. And all dese men wanted to marry her, so they all went and ast her pa if they could have her. He looked ’em all over, but he couldn’t decide which one of ’em would make de best husband and de girl, she couldn’t make up her mind, so one Sunday night when he walked into de parlor where they was all sittin’ and said to ’em, “Well, all y’all want to marry my daughter and youse all good men and Ah can’t decide which one will make her de best husband. So y’all be here tomorrow mornin’ at daybreak and we’ll have a contest and de one dat can do de quickest trick kin have de girl.”
Nex’ mornin’ de first one got up seen it wasn’t no water in de bucket to cook breakfas’ wid. So he tole de girl’s mama to give him de water bucket and he would go to the spring and git her some.
He took de bucket in his hand and then he found out dat de spring was ten miles off. But he said he didn’t mind dat. He went on and dipped up de water and hurried on back wid it. When he got to de five-mile post he looked down into de bucket and seen dat de bottom had done dropped out. Then he recollected dat he heard somethin’ fall when he dipped up de water so he turned round and run back to de spring and clapped in dat bottom before de water had time to spill.
De ole man thought dat was a pretty quick trick, but de second man says, “Wait a minute. Ah want a grubbin’ hoe and a axe and a plow and a harrow.” So he got everything he ast for. There was ten acres of wood lot right nex’ to de house. He went out dere and chopped down all de trees, grubbed up de roots, ploughed de field, harrowed it, planted it in cow-peas, and had green peas for dinner.
De ole man says “Dat’s de quickest trick. Can’t nobody beat dat. No use in tryin’. He done won de girl.”
De last man said, “You ain’t even givin’ me a chance to win de girl.”
So he took his high-powered rifle and went out into de woods about seben or eight miles until he spied a deer. He took aim and fired. Then he run home, run round behind de house and set his gun down and then run back out in de woods and caught de deer and held ’im till de bullet hit ’im.
So he won de girl.
Robert Williams said:
Ah know another man wid a daughter.
The man sent his daughter off to school for seben years, den she come home all finished up. So he said to her, “Daughter, git yo’ things and write me a letter to my brother!” So she did.
He says, “Head it up,” and she done so.
“Now tell ’im, ‘Dear Brother, our chile is done come home from school and all finished up and we is very proud of her.’”
Then he ast de girl “Is you got dat?”
She tole ’im “yeah.”
“Now tell him some mo’. ‘Our mule is dead but Ah got another mule and when Ah say (clucking sound of tongue and teeth) he moved from de word.’”
“Is you got dat?” he ast de girl.
“Naw suh,” she tole ’im.
He waited a while and he ast her again, “You got dat down yet?”
“Naw suh, Ah ain’t got it yet.”
“How come you ain’t got it?”
“Cause Ah can’t spell (clucking sound).”
“You mean to tell me you been off to school seben years and can’t spell (clucking sound)? Why Ah could spell dat myself and Ah ain’t been to school a day in mah life. Well jes’ say (clucking sound) he’ll know what yo’ mean and go on wid de letter.”
Henry “Nigger” Byrd said:
I know one about a letter too.
My father owned a fas’ horse—I mean a fast horse. We was livin’ in Ocala then. Mah mother took sick and mah father come and said, “Skeet,”—he uster call me Skeet—“You oughter wire yo’ sister in St. Petersburg.”
“I jus’ wired her,” I tole him.
“Whut did you put in it?”
I tole ’im.
He says, “Dat ain’t right. I’m goin’ ketch it.” He went out in de pasture and caught de horse and shod ’im and curried ’im and brushed ’im off good, put de saddle on ’im and got on ’im, and caught dat telegram and read it and took it on to mah sister.
Soon as he left de house, mama said, “You chillun make a fire in de stove and fix somethin’ for de ole man to eat.”
Befo’ she could git de word out her mouf, him and mah sister rode up to de do’ and said “Whoa!”
By dat time a flea ast me for a shoe-shine so I left.
Armetta said: “Nigger, I didn’t know you could lie like that.”
“I ain’t lyin’, Armetta. We had dat horse. We had a cow too and she was so sway-backed that she could use de bushy part of her tail for a umbrella over her head.”
“Shet up, Nig!” “Seaboard” Hamilton pretended to be out
raged. “Ah knowed you could sing barytone but Ah wouldn’t a b’lieved de lyin’ was in you if Ah didn’t hear you myself. Whut makes you bore wid such a great big augur?”
Little Julius Henry, who should have been home in bed spoke up. “Mah brother John had a horse ’way back dere in slavery time.”
“Let de dollars hush whilst de nickel speak,” Charlies Jones derided Julius’ youth. “Julius, whut make you wanta jump in a hogshead when a kag1 will hold yuh? You hear dese hard ole coons lyin’ up a nation and you stick in yo’ bill.”
“If his mouf is cut cross ways and he’s two years ole, he kin lie good as anybody else,” John French defended. “Blow it, Julius.”
Julius spat out into the yard, trying to give the impression that he was skeeting tobacco juice like a man.2
De rooster chew t’backer, de hen dip snuff.
De biddy can’t do it, but he struts his stuff.
Ole John, he was workin’ for Massa and Massa had two hawses and he lakted John, so he give John one of his hawses.
When John git to workin’ ’em he’d haul off and beat Massa’s hawse, but he never would hit his’n. So then some white folks tole ole Massa ’bout John beatin’ his hawse and never beatin’ his own. So Massa tole John if he ever heard tell of him layin’ a whip on his hawse agin he was gointer take and kill John’s hawse dead as a nit.
John tole ’im, “Massa, if you kill my hawse, Ah’ll beatcher makin’ money.”
One day John hit ole Massa’s hawse agin. Dey went and tole Massa’ bout it. He come down dere where John was haulin’ trash, wid a great big ole knife and cut John’s hawse’s th’oat and he fell dead.
John jumped down off de wagon and skint his hawse, and tied de hide up on a stick and throwed it cross his shoulder, and went on down town.
Ole John was a fortune teller hisself but nobody ’round dere didn’t know it. He met a man and de man ast John, “Whut’s dat you got over yo’ shoulder dere, John?”
Mules and Men Page 5