Talking to my mum about this song just today - she used to sing it to me as a baby, along with some other old lullabys.

Wouls love to have a recording of it - live in Aust and sad to say some of these feelings haven't changed over a 100yrs....maybe the next 100 will help us be better people
MAMA'S LITTLE ALABAMA COON (aka STAY IN YOUR OWN BACK YARD)
(Lyn Udall / Karl Kennett) - 1899

Recorded by: Dick Hyman; Arthur Pryor.

Ah's mama's li'l Alabama coon
And ah ain't been born very long
Ah's remember one big round moon
Ah's member singin' one sweet song
When they took me down to the cotton field
There I tumbled and I rolled in the sun
Daddy picking cotton; mama watch me grow
This was the old song she sung

Lilac trees are bloomin' in the garden by the gate
Mammy's at her little cabin door
Curly headed picanniny comin' home so late
Cryin' cuz his little heart is sore

All the children play around
With skins so white and fair
None of them with him would ever play
So mammy in her lap, took that weeping little chap
And crooned him in her kind old way

Why don't you play in your own backyard
Never mind what the white chile do
Nobody ever would want to play
With a little black coon like you

Go out and play as long as you please
But Honey don't you cry so hard
Go out and jump on the high board fence
But stay in your own backyard

Go to sleep my little picanny
Brer fox catch you if ya don't
Slumber on the bosom of your ol' mama Jinny
Mama goin to swap yo if you don't
Ah-loo-ah-loo-ah-looah-loo-ah-loo
Underneath the sunny southern moon
Lullabye, Rockabye Mama's li'l baby
Mama's li'l Alabama Coon


(Contributed by Lorna Fryer - October 2002)
(Corrected by Paul Tholfsen - October 2002)


*****


ANOTHER VERSION:


Lilac trees a blooming in the corner by the gate,
Mammy in the little cabin door,
Curly headed pickaninny comin' home so late,
Cryin' 'cause his little heart is sore;
All the children playin' round
Have skin so white and fair,
None of them with him will ever play,
So mammy in her lap takes the little weeping chap,
And says in her kind old way:

Now honey, yo' stay in yo' own back yard,
Doan mind what dem white chiles do;
What show yo' suppose dey's a gwine to gib
A black little coon like yo'?
So stay on dis side of de high boahd fence,
And honey doan cry so hard:
Go out an' a-play, jes as much as yo' please,
But stay in yo' own back yard.

Every day the children as they passed old mammy's place,
Romping home from school at night or noon,
Peering through the fence would see this eager little face,
Such a wistful, lonesome little coon;
'Til one day the little face was gone forever more,
God had called this dusky little elf,
And Mammy in the door sat and rocked as oft before,
And crooned to her old black self:

Now honey, yo' stay in yo' own back yard,
Doan mind what dem white chiles do;
What show yo' suppose dey's a gwine to gib
A black little coon like yo'?
So stay on dis side of de high boahd fence,
An honey, doan cry so hard;
Go out an' a-play, jes as much as yo' please,
But stay in yo' own back yard.

Kind Regards
Noela