Hubbell, Jay. “Negro Boatmen’s Songs.” Southern Folklore Quarterly 18 (1954): 244-245.

The brief piece serves to reproduce part of a lost / inaccessible article, “An Editorial Voyage to Edisto Island,” _Chicora_ [Charleston] (13 Aug 1842): 47 and (27 Aug 1842): 63.

Quotes from the 1842 article:

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Regularly and beautifully each oar is dipped into the seemingly glassy water, and as the canoe springs forward at the impulse, “Big-mouth Joe,” the leading oarsman, announces his departure from the city with a song, in whose chorus every one joins—

Now we gwine leab Charlestown city,
        Pull boys, pull!—
The gals we leab it is a pity,
        Pull boys, pull!—
Mass Ralph, ’e take a big strong toddy,
        Pull boys, pull!—
Mass Ralph, e aint gwine let us noddy,
        Pull boys, pull!—
The sun, ’e is up, da creeping,
        Pull boys, pull!—
You Jim, you rascal, you’s da sleeping,
        Pull boys, pull!—
        
And thus in an improvisation of as pleasant melody as ever floated over the waters, we are off on our voyage.
        Mass Ralph, mass Ralph, ’e is a good man,
                Oh ma Riley, oh!
        Mass Ralph, mass Ralph, ’e sit at the boat starn,
                Oh ma Riley, oh!
        Mass Ralph, mass Ralph, him boat ’e can row,
                Oh ma Riley, oh!
        Come boys, come boys, pull let me pull oh,
                Oh ma Riley, oh!

…Everything upon such occasions is turned into song; and as our purpose is to afford a true picture of the habitats of this part of our population, we will be excused in giving a specimen or two of such improvisations, even at the risk of offending those few pretenders to taste, who presume because they have skill enough to adjust a cravat, or fit a coat, they must also possess brains enough to criticise the inherent beauty and propriety of our negro minstrelsy.
        One of the oarsmen lags perhaps at his work. Joe perceives it, and at once strikes up—

        One time upon did ribber,
                Long time ago—
        Mass Ralph ’e had a nigger,
                Long time ago—
        Da nigger had no merit,
                Long time ago—
       De nigger couldn’t row wid sperrit,
                Long time ago—
        And now dere is in dis boat, ah,
                A nigger dat I see—
        Wha’ is a good for nothing shoat, ah,
                Ha, ha, ha, he—
        Da nigger’s weak like water,
                Ha, ha, ha, he—
        ’E can’t row a half quarter,
                Ha, ha, ha, he—
        Cuss de nigger—cuss ’e libber,
                Ha, ha, ha, he—
        ’E nebber shall come on dis ribber,
                Ha, ha, ha, he—

        The delinquent oarsman would sooner die than live under such a rebuke; and hence it is that few failures are ever met with in boat voyages of the kind.
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