[78-L] Stephen Foster

[Tom]

Bud,
 
In response to your previous question, copied below:
 
<< Please name just one Stephen C. Foster song that denigrates the black man. >>
 
How many years do you want to discuss this? Please see the seven songs below, just for starters.

<< Old Black Joe?  Oh, Susanna?  Camptown Races? In none of his songs does he ever use the "N" word.  "Darkie," yes, but this word was as acceptable in the mid-nineteenth century as "African-American" is today. >>
 
Actually, yes he does use the word "nigger" and its various derivations and in more than one song, too. I found half a dozen, pretty quickly, without even downloading the lyrics into a database and doing a database search. Here they are: (1) Old Ned; (2) Susannah; (3) Away Down Souf; (4) Oh! Lemuel!; (5) Way Down in C-a-i-r-o; (6) Oh! Boys Carry Me 'Long. The lyrics appear below and they're racist, degrading, and stereotype African Americans in the worst possible light imaginable.
 
There are other, equally gratuitous, demeaning, pejorative and mean spirited songs about African Americans by Stephen Foster which don't incude the use of the word "nigger", and among them -- just to cite one example, though there are plenty of others --  I've included Foster's "A Soldier in De Colored Brigade" as an example. And by the way, his stereotypes of white southern women are equally gratuitous and specious, though that's a whole other discussion.
 
-----------------------------------------------------
 
Old Ned, by Stephen Foster
 
Dere was an old Nigga, dey call'd him Uncle Ned
He's dead long ago, long ago!
He had no wool on de top ob his head
De place whar de wool ought to grow. 
  
chorus:

Den lay down de shubble and de hoe
Hang up de fiddle and de bow:
No more work for poor Old Ned
He's gone where the good Niggas go.
When Old Ned die Massa take it mighty bad,
De tears run down like de rain;
Old missus turn pale, and she gets berry sad
Cayse she nebber see Old Ned again.
His fingers were long like de cane in de brake,
He had no eyes for to see;
He had no teeth for eat de corn cake
So had to let de corn cake be. 
  
  
Susannah, by Stephen Foster 
  
come from Alabama with my Banjo on my knee
I'se gwine to Lou'siana my true lub for to see.
It rain'd all night de day I left, de wedder it was dry;
The sun so hot I froze to def -- Susanna, don't you cry. 
  
chorus:

Oh!  Susanna, do not cry for me;
I come from Alabama,
Wid my Banjo on my knee.
I jump'd aboard the telegraph and trabbled down de ribber,
De lectrick fluid magnified, and kill'd five hundred Nigga.
De bulgine bust and de hoss ran off, I really thought I'd die;
I shut my eyes to hold my bref--Susanna don't you cry.
I had a dream de udder night, when ebry ting was still;
I thought I saw Susanna dear, coming down de hill,
De buckwheat cake was in her mouf, de tear was in her eye,
I says, I'se coming from de souf, --Susanna don't you cry. 
  
  
Away Down Souf, by Stephen Foster 
  
We'll put for de souf--Ah! dat's the place,
For the steeple chase and de bully hoss race--
Poker, brag, eucher, seven up and loo,
Den chime in Niggas, won't you come along too. 
  
chorus:

No use talken when de Nigga wants to go,
Whar de corn-top blossom and de canebrake grow;
Den come along to Cuba, and we'll dance de polka juba,
Way down souf, whar de corn grow.
My lub she hab a very large mouf,
One in de norf, tudder corner in de souf;
It ams so long, it reach so far--
Trabble all around it on a railroad car.
I went last night to see my Sally--
Two story house in Pig tail ally,
Whar de skeeters buz, and de fleas dey bite,
And de bull dogs howl and de tom cats fight. 
  
  
Oh! Lemuel, by Stephen Foster 
  
Oh!  Lemuel my lark,
Oh Lemuel my beau,
I's guine to gib a ball tonight,
I'd hab you for to know;
But if you want to dance,
Just dance outside de door;
Cayse your feet so berry large
Dey'll cover all de floor.
Oh!  Lem! Lem! Lem! Lemuel I say!
Go down to de cotton field,
And bring de boys away. 
  
chorus:

Go down to de cotton field!
Go down, I say!
Go down and call de Nigga boys all:
We'll no  more today
Oh!  Lemuel my hope,
Oh!  Lemuel my joy
I'll tell you who'll be at de ball
My woolly headed boy.
Dere's Nelly Bly, you know,
And Juliana Snow,
Dere's cane-brake Kitty likes de boys,
And she'll be sure to go.
Oh!  Lem! Lem! Lem!  Leumel I say!
Go down to de cotton field and bring de boys away.
Oh!  Lemuel is tall,
Oh!  Lemuel is fair,
Oh Lemuel has gone to day
To take de morning air.
He makes de fiddle hum,
He makes de banjo tum,
He rattles on de old jaw bone,
And beats upon de drum.
Oh!  Lem! Lem! Lem! Lemuel I say!
Go down to de cotton field and bring de boys away. 
  
  
Way Down in C-a-i-r-o, by Stephen Foster 
  
Oh!  ladies dont you blush when I come out to play;
I only mean to please you all, and den I's guine away. 
  
chorus:

I hear my true lub weep,
I hear my true lub sigh,
'Way down in Cairo dis nigga's guine to die.
Sometimes de niggas life is sad,
Sometimes his life is gay,
When de work dont come too hard
He's singing all de day.
Now we libs on de fat ob de land,
Now we libs on de lean
When we hab no cake to bake
We sweep de kitchen clean.
Massa bought a bran new coat
And hung it on de wall,
Dis nigga's guine to take dat coat,
And wear it to de ball.
All de ladies in de land,
And all de gemmen too.
Am guine to hear de darkey band
And see what they can do. 
  
  
Oh! Boys Carry Me 'Long, by Stephen Foster 
  
Oh! carry me 'long;
Der's no more trouble for me:
I's guine to roam
In a happy home
Where all de niggas am free.
I've worked long in de fields;
I've handled many a hoe:
I'll turn my eye,
Before I die,
And see de sugarcane grow. 
  
chorus:

Oh! boys, carry me 'long;
Carry me till I die
Carry me down
To de buryin' groun'
Massa, don't you cry.
All ober de land
I've wandered many a day,
To blow de horn
And mind de corn
And keep de possum away.
No use for me now
So darkeys burn me low:
My horn is dry,
And I must lie
Whar de possum nebber can go.
Farewell to de boys
Wid hearts so happy and light,
De sing a song
De whole day long,
And dance de juba at night.
Farewell to de fields
Ob cotton, 'bacco, and all:
I's guine to hoe
In a bressed row
Wha de corn grows mellow and tall.
Farewell to de hills,
De meadows covered wid green,
Old brindle Boss
And de old grey hoss
All beaten, broken, and lean.
Farewell to de dog
Dat always followed me round;
Old Sancho'll wail
And droop his tail
When I am under de ground. 
  
  
[**] The word "nigger" is missing from the following Stephen Foster song, but I thought I'd include it just to show what Foster really thought about African Americans. Nothing "that denigrates the black man" here, to use your phrase, right? 
  
  
A Soldier in de Colored Brigade, by Stephen Foster 
  
Old Uncle Abram wants us,
And we're coming right along
I tell you what it is, we're gwine to muster might strong.
Then fare you well my honey dear! now don't you be afraid
I's bound to be a soldier in de colored brigade. 
  
chorus:

A soldier! a soldier, in de darkey brigade!
I's bound to be a soldier in de colored brigade!
O! when we meet de enemy I 'spec we make 'em stare,
I tink he'll catch a tartar when he meets de woolly hair.
We'll fight while we are above and in greenbacks we'll be paid,
And soon I'll be a Colonel in de Colored Brigade
A colonel! A colonel in de darkey Brigade,
And soon I'll be a Colonel in de Colored Brigade!
Wid musket on my shoulder and wid banjo in my hand,
For Union, and de Constitution as it was I stand.
Now some folks tink de darkey for dis fighting was'nt made,
We'll show dem what's de matter in de Colored Brigade.
De matter! De matter in de darkey Brigade! 
We'll show dem what's de matter in de colored brigade! 
In days ob Gen'ral Washington we fought de British well,
Behind de bales wid "Hickory"I tink we made 'em yell.
I tell you we're de chickens dat can handle gun or spade,
And Greeley he'll go wid us in de Colored Brigade.
Go wid us! Go wid us in de darkey Brigade,
And Greeley he'll go wid us in de Colored Brigade!
Some say dey lub de darket and dey want him to be free,
I spec dey only fooling and dey better let him be.
For him dey'd brake dis Union which de're forefadders hab made,
Worth more dan twenty millions ob de Colored Brigade.
Dan millions! Dan millions of de darkey Brigade,
Worth more dan twenty millions ob de Colored Brigade!
Den cheer up now my honey dear I hear de trumpets play,
And gib me just a little buss before I go away.
I'll marry you when I come back so dont you be afraid,
We'll raise up picanninnies for de colored Brigade,
We'll raise up picanninnies for de colored brigade! 
  
----------------------------------------------------- 
  
<< By the by, a Caucasian musician pal of mine was born and raised in southern Johannesburg, and now is an American citizen.  Is he, therefore, African-American? >> 
 
No, he isn't. But then you knew that before you engaged in this particular rhetorical device.
 
<< Further, be it known that after I finish writing this I am confining your hateful garbage to my spam filter list where you belong. >>
 
Promise?

Tom


--- On Sun, 1/25/09, Bud Black <banjobud at cfl.rr.com> wrote:

From: Bud Black <banjobud at cfl.rr.com>
Subject: Re: [78-L] Stephen Foster
To: "78-L Mail List" <78-l at klickitat.78online.com>
Date: Sunday, January 25, 2009, 6:24 PM

Tom, you are obviously obsessed with your own importance.  You bore me
beyond words, and I'm sure many others on this list as well.  We were just
getting things back to normal when you come back with your idiotic
judgmental crap.  Don't you ever deign, in your utter ignorance, to try to
pigeon hole me into one of your sick little mental cubby holes.  Further, be
it known that after I finish writing this I am confining your hateful
garbage to my spam filter list where you belong.  You have a severe problem,
and frankly.....you can go to hell.  Have a nice life!

Bud