Post by Admin on May 10, 2015 16:09:19 GMT
Growing up in the 30s and 40s in rural Tennessee (Middle), I was accustomed to making trips to the fields, carrying water to the people who were working the cotton, corn and other crops. As I've told on other forums, my Grandfather, an old country doctor, helped out many African-American families during the hard times of the depression, giving a place to live, seed and equipment for their personal gardens, and even delivering a few babies along the way. Now I don't defend some of his "segregationist" ideas, because he was a firm believer in the Jim Crow status, but I do believe he was as compassionate as any of the white people of the area.
My brothers and I worked side by side with those African-American field workers, and I recall hearing some of the field shouts...mostly non-rhythmic hollers at quitting time, or when the old lunch bell rang. But a few did have a poetic air -
"Quittin time, quittin' time
Sun gettin low
Chillun put down yo hoe
At the end of the row!"
and
"Dinner Bell
Dinner Bell
Take the mule to the barn
and head for the well!"
There was a call and response I vaguely remember where the Daddy would call for his "mammy" and she would respond...That would go on for hours as they worked their way across the field.
My brothers and I worked side by side with those African-American field workers, and I recall hearing some of the field shouts...mostly non-rhythmic hollers at quitting time, or when the old lunch bell rang. But a few did have a poetic air -
"Quittin time, quittin' time
Sun gettin low
Chillun put down yo hoe
At the end of the row!"
and
"Dinner Bell
Dinner Bell
Take the mule to the barn
and head for the well!"
There was a call and response I vaguely remember where the Daddy would call for his "mammy" and she would respond...That would go on for hours as they worked their way across the field.
