[Transcriber’s Note: A few obvious typo’s in stage directions have
been fixed, though nothing in the dialogue has been changed.]
THE MULE-BONE
A COMEDY OF NEGRO LIFE IN
THREE ACTS
By LANGSTON HUGHES and ZORA HURSTON
Contents
ACT ONE
ACT TWO
ACT THREE
CHARACTERS
JIM WESTON: Guitarist, Methodist, slightly arrogant, agressive,
somewhat self-important, ready with his tongue.
DAVE CARTER: Dancer, Baptist, soft, happy-go-lucky character, slightly
dumb and unable to talk rapidly and wittily.
DAISY TAYLOR.
Methodist, domestic servant, plump, dark and sexy, self-conscious of
clothes and appeal, fickle.
JOE CLARK.
The Mayor, storekeeper and postmaster, arrogant, ignorant and powerful
in a self-assertive way, large, fat man, Methodist.
ELDER SIMMS.
Methodist minister, newcomer in town, ambitious, small and fly, but not
very intelligent.
ELDER CHILDERS.
Big, loose-jointed, slow spoken but not dumb. Long resident in the
town, calm and sure of himself.
KATIE CARTER: Dave’s aunt, little old wizened dried-up lady.
MRS. HATTIE CLARK.
The Mayor’s wife, fat and flabby mulatto high-pitched voice.
THE MRS. REV. SIMMS.
Large and agressive.
THE MRS. REV. CHILDERS.
Just a wife who thinks of details.
LUM BOGER.
Young town marshall about twenty, tall, gangly, with big flat feet,
liked to show off in public.
TEET MILLER: Village vamp who is jealous of DAISY.
LIGE MOSELY: A village wag.
WALTER THOMAS.
Another village wag.
ADA LEWIS: A promiscuous lover.
DELLA LEWIS: Baptist, poor housekeeper, mother of ADA.
BOOTSIE PITTS: A local vamp.
MRS. DILCIE ANDERSON: Village housewife, Methodist.
WILLIE NIXON.
Methodist, short runt.
ACT ONE
SETTING: The raised porch of JOE CLARK’S Store and the street in front.
Porch stretches almost completely across the stage, with a plank bench
at either end. At the center of the porch three steps leading from
street. Rear of porch, center, door to the store. On either side are
single windows on which signs, at left, “POST OFFICE”, and at right,
“GENERAL STORE” are painted. Soap boxes, axe handles, small kegs, etc.,
on porch on which townspeople sit and lounge during action. Above the
roof of the porch the “false front”, or imitation second story of the
shop is seen with large sign painted across it “JOE CLARK’S GENERAL
STORE”. Large kerosine street lamp on post at right in front of porch.
Saturday afternoon and the villagers are gathered around the store.
Several men sitting on boxes at edge of porch chewing sugar cane,
spitting tobacco juice, arguing, some whittling, others eating peanuts.
During the act the women all dressed up in starched dresses parade in
and out of store. People buying groceries, kids playing in the street,
etc. General noise of conversation, laughter and children shouting. But
when the curtain rises there is momentary lull for cane-chewing. At
left of porch four men are playing cards on a soap box, and seated on
the edge of the porch at extreme right two children are engaged in a
checker game, with the board on the floor between them.
When the curtain goes up the following characters are discovered on the
porch: MAYOR JOE CLARK, the storekeeper; DEACON HAMBO; DEACON GOODWIN;
Old Man MATT BRAZZLE; WILL CODY; SYKES JONES; LUM BOGER, the young town
marshall; LIGE MOSELY and WALTER THOMAS, two village wags; TOM NIXON
and SAM MOSELY, and several others, seated on boxes, kegs, benches and
floor of the porch. TONY TAYLOR is sitting on steps of porch with empty
basket. MRS. TAYLOR comes out with her arms full of groceries, empties
them into basket and goes back in store. All the men are chewing sugar
cane earnestly with varying facial expressions. The noise of the
breaking and sucking of cane can be clearly heard in the silence.
Occasionally the laughter and shouting of children is heard nearby off
stage.
HAMBO.
(To BRAZZLE) Say, Matt, gimme a jint or two of dat green cane—dis
ribbon cane is hard.
LIGE.
Yeah, and you ain’t got de chears in yo’ parlor you useter have.
HAMBO.
Dat’s all right, Lige, but I betcha right now wid dese few teeth I got
I kin eat up more cane’n you kin grow.
LIGE.
I know you kin and that’s de reason I ain’t going to tempt you. But
youse gettin’ old in lots of ways—look at dat bald-head—just as clean
as my hand. (Exposes his palm).
HAMBO.
Don’t keer if it tis—I don’t want nothin’—not even hair—between me and
God. (General laughter—LIGE joins in as well. Cane chewing keeps up.
Silence for a moment.)
(Off stage a high shrill voice can be heard calling:)
VOICE.
Sister Mosely, Oh, Sister Mosely! (A pause) Miz Mosely! (Very
irritated) Oh, Sister Mattie! You hear me out here—you just won’t
answer!
VOICE OF MRS. MOSELY.
Whoo-ee … somebody calling me?
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(Angrily) Never mind now—you couldn’t come when I called you. I don’t
want yo’ lil ole weasley turnip greens. (Silence)
MATT BRAZZLE.
Sister Roberts is en town agin! If she was mine, I’ll be hen-fired if I
wouldn’t break her down in de lines (loins)—good as dat man is to her!
HAMBO.
I wish she was mine jes’ one day—de first time she open her mouf to beg
_anybody_, I’d lam her wid lightning.
JOE CLARK.
I God, Jake Roberts buys mo’ rations out dis store than any man in dis
town. I don’t see to my Maker whut she do wid it all…. Here she come….
(ENTER MRS. JAKE ROBERTS, a heavy light brown woman with a basket on
her arm. A boy about ten walks beside her carrying a small child about
a year old straddle of his back. Her skirts are sweeping the ground.
She walks up to the step, puts one foot upon the steps and looks
forlornly at all the men, then fixes her look on JOE CLARK.)
MRS. ROBERTS.
Evenin’, Brother Mayor.
CLARK.
Howdy do, Mrs. Roberts. How’s yo’ husband?
MRS. ROBERTS.
(Beginning her professional whine): He ain’t much and I ain’t much and
my chillun is poly. We ain’t got ’nough to eat! Lawd, Mr. Clark, gimme
a lil piece of side meat to cook us a pot of greens.
CLARK.
Aw gwan, Sister Roberts. You got plenty bacon home. Last week Jake
bought….
MRS. ROBERTS.
(Frantically) Lawd, Mist’ Clark, how long you think dat lil piece of
meat last me an’ my chillun? Lawd, me and my chillun is _hongry_! God
knows, Jake don’t fee-eed me!
(MR. CLARK sits unmoved. MRS. ROBERTS advances upon him)
Mist’ Clark!
CLARK.
I God, woman, don’t keep on after me! Every time I look, youse round
here beggin’ for everything you see.
LIGE.
And whut she don’t see she whoops for it just de same.
MRS. ROBERTS.
(In dramatic begging pose) Mist’ Clark! Ain’t you boin’ do nuthin’ for
me? And you see me and my poor chillun is starvin’….
CLARK.
(Exasperated rises) I God, woman, a man can’t git no peace wid somebody
like you in town. (He goes angrily into the store followed by MRS.
ROBERTS. The boy sits down on the edge of the porch sucking the baby’s
thumb.)
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
A piece ’bout dis wide….
VOICE OF CLARK.
I God, naw! Yo’ husband done bought you plenty meat, nohow.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(In great anguish) Ow! Mist’ Clark! Don’t you cut dat lil tee-ninchy
piece of meat for me and my chillun! (Sound of running feet inside the
store.) I ain’t a going to tetch it!
VOICE OF CLARK.
Well, don’t touch it then. That’s all you’ll git outa me.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(Calmer) Well, hand it chear den. Lawd, me and my chillun is _so_
hongry…. Jake don’t fee-eed me. (She re-enters by door of store with
the slab of meat in her hand and an outraged look on her face. She
gazes all about her for sympathy.) Lawd, me and my poor chillun is _so_
hongry … and some folks has _every_thing and they’s so _stingy_ and
gripin’…. Lawd knows, Jake don’t fee-eed me! (She exits right on this
line followed by the boy with the baby on his back.)
(All the men gaze behind her, then at each other and shake their
heads.)
HAMBO.
Poor Jake. I’m really sorry for dat man. If she was mine I’d beat her
till her ears hung down like a Georgy mule.
WALTER THOMAS.
I’d beat her till she smell like onions.
LIGE.
I’d romp on her till she slack like lime.
NIXON.
I’d stomp her till she rope like okra.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(Off stage right) Lawd, Miz Lewis, you goin’ give me dat lil han’ful of
greens for me and my chillun. Why dat ain’t a eye-full. I ought not to
take ’em … but me and my chillun is _so_ hongry…. Some folks is so
stingy and gripin’! Lawd knows, Tony don’t _feed_ me!
(The noise of cane-chewing is heard again. Enter JOE LINDSAY left with
a gun over his shoulder and the large leg bone of a mule in the other
hand. He approaches the step wearily.)
HAMBO.
Well, did you git any partridges, Joe?
JOE.
(Resting his gun and seating himself) Nope, but I made de feathers fly.
HAMBO.
I don’t see no birds.
JOE.
Oh, the feathers flew off on de birds.
LIGE.
I don’t see nothin’ but dat bone. Look lak you done kilt a cow and et
’im raw out in de woods.
JOE.
Don’t y’all know dat hock-bone?
WALTER.
How you reckon we gointer know every hock-bone in Orange County sight
unseen?
JOE.
(Standing the bone up on the floor of the porch) Dis is a hock-bone of
Brazzle’s ole yaller mule.
(General pleased interest. Everybody wants to touch it.)
BRAZZLE.
(Coming forward) Well, sir! (Takes bone in both hands and looks up and
down the length of it) If ’tain’t my ole mule! This sho was one hell of
a mule, too. He’d fight every inch in front of de plow … he’d turn over
de mowing machine … run away wid de wagon … and you better not look
like you wanter _ride_ ’im!
LINDSAY.
(Laughing) Yeah, I ’member seein’ you comin’ down de road just so … (He
limps wid one hand on his buttocks) one day.
BRAZZLE.
Dis mule was so evil he used to try to bite and kick when I’d go in de
stable to feed ’im.
WALTER.
He was too mean to git fat. He was so skinny you could do a week’s
washing on his ribs for a washboard and hang ’em up on his hip-bones to
dry.
LIGE.
I ’member one day, Brazzle, you sent yo’ boy to Winter Park after some
groceries wid a basket. So here he went down de road ridin’ dis mule
wid dis basket on his arm…. Whut you reckon dat ole contrary mule done
when he got to dat crooked place in de road going round Park Lake? He
turnt right round and went through de handle of dat basket … wid de boy
still up on his back. (General laughter)
BRAZZLE.
Yeah, he up and died one Sat’day just for spite … but he was too
contrary to lay down on his side like a mule orter and die decent. Naw,
he made out to lay down on his narrer contracted back and die wid his
feets sticking straight up in de air just so. (He gets down on his back
and illustrates.) We drug him out to de swamp wid ’im dat way, didn’t
we, Hambo?
JOE CLARK.
I God, Brazzle, we all seen it. Didn’t we all go to de draggin’ out?
More folks went to yo’ mule’s draggin’ out than went to last school
closing…. Bet there ain’t been a thing right in mule-hell for four
years.
HAMBO.
Been dat long since he been dead?
CLARK.
I God, yes. He died de week after I started to cutting’ dat new ground.
(The bone is passing from hand to hand. At last a boy about twelve
takes it. He has just walked up and is proudly handling the bone when a
woman’s voice is heard off stage right.)
VOICE.
Senator! Senator!! Oh, you Senator?
BOY.
(Turning displeased mutters) Aw, shux. (Loudly) Ma’m?
VOICE.
If you don’t come here you better!
SENATOR.
Yes ma’am. (He drops bone on ground down stage and trots off frowning.)
Soon as we men git to doing something dese wimmen…. (Exits, right.)
(Enter TEET and BOOTSIE left, clean and primped in voile dresses just
alike. They speak diffidently and enter store. The men admire them
casually.)
LIGE.
Them girls done turned out to be right good-looking.
WALTER.
Teet ain’t as pretty now as she was a few years back. She used to be
fat as a butter ball wid legs just like two whiskey-kegs. She’s too
skinny since she got her growth.
CODY.
Ain’t none of ’em pretty as dat Miss Daisy. God! She’s pretty as a
speckled pup.
LIGE.
But she was sho nuff ugly when she was little … little ole hard black
knot. She sho has changed since she been away up North. If she ain’t
pretty now, there ain’t a hound dog in Georgy.
(Re-enter SENATOR BAILEY and stops on the steps. He addresses JOE
CLARK.)
SENATOR.
Mist’ Clark….
HAMBO.
(To Senator) Ain’t you got no manners? We all didn’t sleep wid you last
night.
SENATOR.
(Embarrassed) Good evening, everybody.
ALL THE MEN.
Good evening, son, boy, Senator, etc.
SENATOR.
Mist’ Clark, mama said is Daisy been here dis evenin’?
JOE CLARK.
Ain’t laid my eyes on her. Ain’t she working over in Maitland?
SENATOR.
Yessuh … but she’s off today and mama sent her down here to get de
groceries.
JOE CLARK.
Well, tell yo’ ma I ain’t seen her.
SENATOR.
Well, she say to tell you when she come, to tell her ma say she better
git home and dat quick.
JOE CLARK.
I will. (Exit BOY right.)
LIGE.
Bet she’s off somewhere wid Dave or Jim.
WALTER.
I don’t bet it … I know it. She’s got them two in de go-long.
(Re-enter TEET and BOOTSIE from store. TEET has a letter and BOOTSIE
two or three small parcels. The men look up with interest as they come
out on the porch.)
WALTER.
(Winking) Whut’s dat you got, Teet … letter from Dave?
TEET.
(Flouncing) Naw indeed! It’s a letter from my B-I-T-sweetie! (Rolls her
eyes and hips.)
WALTER.
(Winking) Well, ain’t Dave yo’ B-I-T-sweetie? I thought y’all was ’bout
to git married. Everywhere I looked dis summer ’twas you and Dave,
Bootsie and Jim. I thought all of y’all would’ve done jumped over de
broomstick by now.
TEET.
(Flourishing letter) Don’t tell it to me … tell it to the ever-loving
Mr. Albert Johnson way over in Apopka.
BOOTSIE.
(Rolling her eyes) Oh, tell ’em ’bout the ever-loving Mr. Jimmy Cox
from Altamont. Oh, I can’t stand to see my baby lose.
HAMBO.
It’s lucky y’all girls done got some more fellers, cause look like
Daisy done treed both Jim and Dave at once, or they done treed here
one.
TEET.
Let her have ’em … nobody don’t keer. They don’t handle de “In God we
trust” lak my Johnson. He’s head bellman at de hotel.
BOOTSIE.
Mr. Cox got money’s grandma and old grandpa change. (The girls exit
huffily.)
LINDSAY.
(To HAMBO, pseudo-seriously) You oughtn’t tease dem gals lak dat.
HAMBO.
Oh, I laks to see gals all mad. But dem boys is crazy sho nuff. Before
Daisy come back here they both had a good-looking gal a piece. Now they
’bout to fall out and fight over half a gal a piece. Neither one won’t
give over and let de other one have her.
LIGE.
And she ain’t thinking too much ’bout no one man. (Looks off left.)
Here she come now. God! She got a mean walk on her!
WALTER.
Yeah, man. She handles a lot of traffic! Oh, mama, throw it in de river
… papa’ll come git it!
LINDSAY.
Aw, shut up, you married men!
LIGE.
Man don’t go blind cause he gits married, do he? (Enter DAISY
hurriedly. Stops at step a moment. She is dressed in sheer organdie,
white shoes and stockings.)
DAISY.
Good evening, everybody. (Walks up on the porch.)
ALL THE MEN.
(Very pleasantly) Good evening, Miss Daisy.
DAISY.
(To CLARK) Mama sent me after some meal and flour and some bacon and
sausage oil.
CLARK.
Senator been here long time ago hunting you.
DAISY.
(Frightened) Did he? Oo … Mist’ Clark, hurry up and fix it for me. (She
starts on in the store.)
LINDSAY.
(Giving her his seat) You better wait here, Daisy.
(WALTER kicks LIGE to call his attention to LINDSAY’S attitude)
It’s powerful hot in dat store. Lemme run fetch ’em out to you.
LIGE.
(To LINDSAY) _Run!_ Joe Lindsay, you ain’t been able to run since de
big bell rung. Look at dat gray beard.
LINDSAY.
Thank God, I ain’t gray all over. I’m just as good a man right now as
any of you young ’uns. (He hurries on into the store.)
WALTER.
Daisy, where’s yo’ two body guards? It don’t look natural to see you
thout nary one of ’em.
DAISY.
(Archly) I ain’t got no body guards. I don’t know what you talkin’
about.
LIGE.
Aw, don’ try to come dat over us, Daisy. You know who we talkin’ ’bout
all right … but if you want me to come out flat footed … where’s Jim
and Dave?
DAISY.
Ain’t they playin’ somewhere for de white folks?
LIGE.
(To WALTER) Will you listen at dis gal, Walter? (To DAISY) When I ain’t
been long seen you and Dave going down to de Lake.
DAISY.
(Frightened) Don’t y’all run tell mama where I been.
WALTER.
Well, you tell us which one you laks de best and we’ll wipe our mouf
(Gesture) and say nothin’. Dem boys been de best of friends all they
life, till both of ’em took after you … then good-bye, Katy bar de
door!
DAISY.
(Affected innocence) Ain’t they still playin’ and dancin’ together?
LIGE.
Yeah, but that’s ’bout all they do ’gree on these days. That’s de way
it is wid men, young and old…. I don’t keer how long they been friends
and how thick they been … a woman kin come between ’em. David and
Jonather never would have been friends so long if Jonather had of been
any great hand wid de wimmen. You ain’t never seen no two roosters that
likes one another.
DAISY.
I ain’t tried to break ’em up.
WALTER.
Course you ain’t. You don’t have to. All two boys need to do is to git
stuck on de same girl and they done broke up … _right now_! Wimmen is
something can’t be divided equal.
(Re-enter JOE LINDSAY and CLARK with the groceries. DAISY jumps up and
grabs the packages.)
LIGE.
(To DAISY) Want some of us … me … to go long and tote yo’ things for
you?
DAISY.
(Nervously) Naw, mama is riding her high horse today. Long as I been
gone it wouldn’t do for me to come walking up wid nobody. (She exits
hurriedly right.)
(All the men watch her out of sight in silence.)
CLARK.
(Sighing) I God, know whut Daisy puts me in de mind of?
HAMBO.
No, what? (They all lean together.)
CLARK.
I God, a great big mango … a sweet smell, you know, with a strong
flavor, but not something you could mash up like a strawberry. Something
with a body to it.
(General laughter, but not obscene.)
HAMBO.
(Admiringly) Joe Clark! I didn’t know you had it in you!
(MRS. CLARK enters from store door and they all straighten up guiltily)
CLARK.
(Angrily to his wife) Now whut do you want? I God, the minute I set
down, here you come….
MRS. CLARK.
Somebody want a stamp, Jody. You know you don’t ’low me to bove wid de
post office. (HE rises sullenly and goes inside the store.)
BRAZZLE.
Say, Hambo, I didn’t see you at our Sunday School picnic.
HAMBO.
(Slicing some plug-cut tobacco) Nope, wan’t there dis time.
WALTER.
Looka here, Hambo. Y’all Baptist carry dis close-communion business too
far. If a person ain’t half drownded in de lake and half et up by
alligators, y’all think he ain’t baptized, so you can’t take communion
wid him. Now I reckon you can’t even drink lemonade and eat chicken
perlow wid us.
HAMBO.
My Lord, boy, youse just _full_ of words. Now, in de first place, if
this year’s picnic was lak de one y’all had last year … you ain’t had
no lemonade for us Baptists to turn down. You had a big ole barrel of
rain water wid about a pound of sugar in it and one lemon cut up over
de top of it.
LIGE.
Man, you sho kin mold ’em!
WALTER.
Well, I went to de Baptist picnic wid my mouf all set to eat chicken,
when lo and behold y’all had chitlings! Do Jesus!
LINDSAY.
Hold on there a minute. There was plenty chicken at dat picnic, which I
do know is right.
WALTER.
Only chicken I seen was half a chicken yo’ pastor musta tried to
swaller whole cause he was choked stiff as a board when I come long …
wid de whole deacon’s board beating him in de back, trying to knock it
out his throat.
LIGE.
Say, dat puts me in de mind of a Baptist brother that was crazy ’bout
de preachers and de preacher was crazy ’bout feeding his face. So his
son got tired of trying to beat dese stump-knockers to de grub on the
table, so one day he throwed out some slams ’bout dese preachers. Dat
made his old man mad, so he tole his son to git out. He boy ast him
“Where must I go, papa?” He says, “Go on to hell I reckon … I don’t
keer where you go.”
So de boy left and was gone seven years. He come back one cold, windy
night and rapped on de door. “Who dat?” de old man ast him. “It’s me,
Jack.” De old man opened de door, so glad to see his son agin, and tole
Jack to come in. He did and looked all round de place. Seven or eight
preachers was sitting round de fire eatin’ and drinkin’.
“Where you been all dis time, Jack?” de old man ast him.
“I been to hell,” Jack tole him.
“Tell us how it is down there, Jack.”
“Well,” he says, “It’s just like it is here … you cain’t git to de fire
for de preachers.”
HAMBO.
Boy, you kin lie just like de cross-ties from Jacksonville to Key West.
De presidin’ elder must come round on his circuit teaching y’all how to
tell ’em, cause you couldn’t lie dat good just natural.
WALTER.
Can’t nobody beat Baptist folks lying … and I ain’t never found out how
come you think youse so important.
LINDSAY.
Ain’t we got de finest and de biggest church? Macedonia Baptist will
hold more folks than any two buildings in town.
LIGE.
Thass right, y’all got a heap more church than you got members to go in
it.
HAMBO.
Thass all right … y’all ain’t got neither de church nor de members.
Everything that’s had in this town got to be held in our church.
(Re-enter JOE CLARK.)
CLARK.
What you-all talkin’?
HAMBO.
Come on out, Tush Hawg, lemme beat you some checkers. I’m tired of
fending and proving wid dese boys ain’t got no hair on they chest yet.
CLARK.
I God, you mean you gointer get beat. You can’t handle me … I’m a tush
hawg.
HAMBO.
Well, I’m going to draw dem tushes right now. (To two small boys using
checker board on edge of porch.) Here you chilluns, let de Mayor and me
have that board. Go on out an’ play an’ give us grown folks a little
peace. (The children go down stage and call out:)
SMALL BOY.
Hey, Senator. Hey, Marthy. Come on let’s play chick-me, chick-me,
cranie-crow.
CHILD’S VOICE.
(Off stage) All right! Come on, Jessie! (Enter several children, led by
SENATOR, and a game begins in front of the store as JOE CLARK and HAMBO
play checkers.)
JOE CLARK.
I God! Hambo, you can’t play no checkers.
HAMBO.
(As they seat themselves at the check board) Aw, man, if you wasn’t de
Mayor I’d beat you all de time.
(The children get louder and louder, drowning out the men’s voices.)
SMALL GIRL.
I’m gointer be de hen.
BOY.
And I’m gointer be de hawk. Lemme git maself a stick to mark wid.
(The boy who is the hawk squats center stage with a short twig in his
hand. The largest girl lines up the other children behind her.)
GIRL.
(Mother Hen) (Looking back over her flock): Y’all ketch holt of one
’Nother’s clothes so de hawk can’t git yuh. (They do.) You all straight
now?
CHILDREN.
Yeah. (The march around the hawk commences.)
HEN AND CHICKS:
Chick mah chick mah craney crow
Went to de well to wash ma toe
When I come back ma chick was gone
What time, ole witch?
HAWK.
(Making a tally on the ground) One!
HEN AND CHICKS.
(Repeat song and march.)
HAWK.
(Scoring again) Two!
(Can be repeated any number of times.)
HAWK.
Four. (He rises and imitates a hawk flying and trying to catch a
chicken. Calling in a high voice:) Chickee.
HEN.
(Flapping wings to protect her young) My chickens sleep.
HAWK.
Chickee. (During all this the hawk is feinting and darting in his
efforts to catch a chicken, and the chickens are dancing defensively,
the hen trying to protect them.)
HEN.
My chicken’s sleep.
HAWK.
I shall have a chick.
HEN.
You shan’t have a chick.
HAWK.
I’m goin’ home. (Flies off)
HEN.
Dere’s de road.
HAWK.
My pot’s a boilin’.
HEN.
Let it boil.
HAWK.
My guts a growlin’.
HEN.
Let ’em growl.
HAWK.
I must have a chick.
HEN.
You shan’t have n’airn.
HAWK.
My mama’s sick.
HEN.
Let her die.
HAWK.
Chickie!
HEN.
My chicken’s sleep.
(HAWK darts quickly around the hen and grabs a chicken and leads him
off and places his captive on his knees at the store porch. After a
brief bit of dancing he catches another, then a third, etc.)
HAMBO.
(At the checker board, his voice rising above the noise of the playing
children, slapping his sides jubilantly) Ha! Ha! I got you now. Go
ahead on and move, Joe Clark … jus’ go ahead on and move.
LOUNGERS.
(Standing around two checker players) Ol’ Deacon’s got you now.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Don’t see how he can beat the Mayor like that.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Got him in the Louisville loop. (These remarks are drowned by the
laughter of the playing children directly in front of the porch. MAYOR
JOE CLARK disturbed in his concentration on the checkers and peeved at
being beaten suddenly turns toward the children, throwing up his
hands.)
CLARK.
Get on ’way from here, you limbs of Satan, making all that racket so a
man can’t hear his ears. Go on, go on!
(THE MAYOR looks about excitedly for the town marshall. Seeing him
playing cards on the other side of porch, he bellows:)
Lum Boger, whyn’t you git these kids away from here! What kind of a
marshall is you? All this passle of young’uns around here under grown
people’s feet, creatin’ disorder in front of my store.
(LUM BOGER puts his cards down lazily, comes down stage and scatters
the children away. One saucy little girl refuses to move.)
LUM BOGER.
Why’nt you go on away from here, Matilda? Didn’t you hear me tell
you-all to move?
LITTLE MATILDA.
(Defiantly) I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You ain’t none of my mama. (Jerking
herself free from him as LUM touches her.) My mama in the store and she
told me to wait out here. So take that, ol’ Lum.
LUM BOGER.
You impudent little huzzy, you! You must smell yourself … youse so
fresh.
MATILDA.
The wind musta changed and you smell your own top lip.
LUM BOGER.
Don’t make me have to grab you and take you down a buttonhole lower.
MATILDA.
(Switching her little head) Go ahead on and grab me. You sho can’t kill
me, and if you kill me, you sho can’t eat me. (She marches into the
store.)
SENATOR.
(Derisively from behind stump) Ol’ dumb Lum! Hey! Hey!
(LITTLE BOY at edge of stage thumbs his nose at the marshall.)
(LUM lumbers after the small boy. Both exit.)
HAMBO.
(To CLARK who has been thinking all this while what move to make) You
ain’t got but one move … go ahead on and make it. What’s de matter,
Mayor?
CLARK.
(Moving his checker) Aw, here.
HAMBO.
(Triumphant) Now! Look at him, boys. I’m gonna laugh in notes.
(Laughing to the scale and jumping a checker each time) Do, sol, fa,
me, lo … one! (Jumping another checker) La, sol, fa, me, do … two!
(Another jump.) Do, sol, re, me, lo … three! (Jumping a third.) Lo, sol,
fa, me, re … four! (The crowd begins to roar with laughter. LUM BOGER
returns, looking on. Children come drifting back again playing
chick-me-chick-me-cranie crow.)
VOICE.
Oh, ha! Done got the ol’ tush hog.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Thought you couldn’t be beat, Brother Mayor?
CLARK.
(Peeved, gets up and goes into the store mumbling) Oh, I coulda beat
you if I didn’t have this store on my mind. Saturday afternoon and I
got work to do. Lum, ain’t I told you to keep them kids from playin’
right in front of this store?
(LUM makes a pass at the nearest half-grown boy. The kids dart around
him teasingly.)
ANOTHER VOICE.
Eh, heh…. Hambo done run him on his store … done run the ol’ coon in
his hole.
ANOTHER VOICE.
That ain’t good politics, Hambo, beatin’ the Mayor.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Well, Hambo, you don’t got to be so hard at checkers, come on let’s see
what you can do with de cards. Lum Boger there got his hands full
nursin’ the chilluns.
ANOTHER VOICE.
(At the table) We ain’t playin’ for money, nohow, Deacon. We just
playin’ a little Florida Flip.
HAMBO.
Ya all can’t play no Florida Flip. When I was a sinner there wasn’t a
man in this state could beat me playin’ that game. But I’m a deacon in
Macedonia Baptist now and I don’t bother with the cards no more.
VOICE AT CARD TABLE.
All right, then, come on here Tony (To man with basket on steps.) let
me catch your jack.
TAYLOR.
(Looking toward door) I don’t reckon I got time. I guess my wife gonna
get through buying out that store some time or other and want to go
home.
OLD MAN.
(On opposite side of porch from card game) I bet my wife would know
better than expect me to sit around and wait for her with a basket.
Whyn’t you tell her to tote it on home herself?
TAYLOR.
(Sighing and shaking his head.) Eh, Lawd!
VOICE AT CARD TABLE.
Look like we can’t get nobody to come into this game. Seem like
everybody’s scared a us. Come on back here, Lum, and take your hand.
(LUM makes a final futile gesture at the children.)
LUM.
Ain’t I tole you little haitians to stay away from here?
(CHILDREN scatter teasingly only to return to their play in front of
the store later on. LUM comes up on the porch and re-joins the card
game. Just as he gets seated, MRS. CLARK comes to the door of the store
and calls him.)
MRS. CLARK.
(Drawlingly) Columbus!
LUM.
(Wearily) Ma’am?
MRS. CLARK.
De Mayor say for you to go round in de back yard and tie up old lady
Jackson’s mule what’s trampin’ aup all de tomatoes in my garden.
LUM.
All right. (Leaving card game.) Wait till I come back, folkses.
LIGE.
Oh, hum! (Yawning and putting down the deck of cards) Lum’s sho a busy
marshall. Say, ain’t Dave and Jim been round here yet? I feel kinder
like hearin’ a little music ’bout now.
BOY.
Naw, they ain’t been here today. You-all know they ain’t so thick nohow
as they was since Daisy Bailey come back and they started runnin’ after
her.
WOMAN.
You mean since she started runnin’ after them, the young hussy.
MRS. CLARK.
(In doorway) She don’t mean ’em no good.
WALTER.
That’s a shame, ain’t it now? (Enter LUM from around back of store. He
jumps on the porch and takes his place at the card box.)
LUM.
(To the waiting players) All right, boys! Turn it on and let the bad
luck happen.
LIGE.
My deal. (He begins shuffling the cards with an elaborate fan-shape
movement.)
VOICE AT TABLE.
Look out there, Lige, you shuffling mighty lot. Don’t carry the cub to
us.
LIGE.
Aw, we ain’t gonna cheat you … we gonna beat you. (He slams down the
cards for LUM BOGER to cut.) Wanta cut ’em?
LUM.
No, ain’t no need of cutting a rabbit out when you can twist him out.
Deal ’em. (LIGE deals out the cards.)
CLARK’S VOICE.
(Inside the store) You, Mattie! (MRS. CLARK, who has been standing in
the door, quickly turns and goes inside.)
LIGE.
Y-e-e-e! Spades! (The game is started.)
LUM.
Didn’t snatch that jack, did you?
LIGE.
Aw, no, ain’t snatched no jack. Play.
WALTER.
(LUM’S partner) Well, here it is, partner. What you want me to play for
you?
LUM.
Play jus’ like I’m in New York, partner. But we gotta try to catch that
jack.
LIGE.
(Threateningly) Stick out your hand and draw back a nub.
(WALTER THOMAS plays.)
WALTER.
I’m playin’ a diamond for you, partner.
LUM.
I done tole you you ain’t got no partner.
LIGE.
Heh, Heh! Partner, we got ’em. Pull off wid your king. Dey got to play
’em. (When that trick is turned, triumphantly:) Didn’t I tell you,
partner? (Stands on his feet and slams down with his ace violently)
Now, come up under this ace. Aw, hah, look at ol’ low, partner. I knew
I was gonna catch ’em. (When LUM plays) Ho, ho, there goes the queen….
Now, the jack’s a gentleman…. Now, I’m playin’ my knots. (Everybody
plays and the hand is ended.) Partner, high, low, jack and the game and
four.
WALTER.
Give me them cards. I believe you-all done give me the cub that time.
Look at me … this is Booker T Washington dealing these cards. (Shuffles
cards grandly and gives them to LIGE to cut.) Wanta cut ’em?
LIGE.
Yeah, cut ’em and shoot ’em. I’d cut behind my ma. (He cuts the cards.)
WALTER.
(Turning to player at left, FRANK, LIGE’S partner) What you saying,
Frank?
FRANK.
I’m beggin’. (LIGE is trying to peep at cards.)
WALTER.
(Turning to LIGE) Stop peepin’ at them cards, Lige. (To FRANK) Did you
say you was beggin’ or standin’?
FRANK.
I’m beggin’.
WALTER.
Get up off your knees. Go ahead and tell ’em I sent you.
FRANK.
Well, that makes us four.
WALTER.
I don’t care if you is. (Pulls a quarter out of his pocket and lays it
down on the box.) Twenty-five cents says I know the best one. Let’s go.
(Everybody puts down a quarter.)
FRANK.
What you want me to play for you partner?
LIGE.
Play me a club. (The play goes around to dealer, WALTER, who gets up
and takes the card off the top of the deck and slams it down on the
table.)
WALTER.
Get up ol’ deuce of deamonds and gallop off with your load. (TO LUM)
Partner, how many times you seen the deck?
LUM.
Two times.
WALTER.
Well, then I’m gonna pull off, partner. Watch this ol’ queen. (Everyone
plays) Ha! Ha! Wash day and no soap. (Takes the jack of diamonds and
sticks him up on his forehead. Stands up on his feet.) Partner, I’m
dumping to you … play your king. (When it comes to his play LUM, too,
stands up. The others get up and they, too, excitedly slam their cards
down.) Now, come on in this kitchen and let me splice that cabbage! (He
slams down the ace of diamonds. Pats the jack on his forehead, sings:)
Hey, hey, back up, jenny, get your load. (Talking) Dump to that jack,
boys, dump to it. High, low, jack and the game and four. One to go.
We’re four wid you, boys.
LIGE.
Yeah, but you-all playin’ catch-up.
FRANK.
Gimme them cards … lemme deal some.
LIGE.
Frank, now you really got responsibility on you. They’s got one game on
us.
FRANK.
Aw, man, I’m gonna deal ’em up a mess. This deal’s in the White House.
(He shuffles and puts the cards down for WALTER to cut.) Cut ’em.
WALTER.
Nope, I never cut green timber. (FRANK deals and turns the card up.)
FRANK.
Hearts, boys. (He turns up an ace.)
LUM.
Aw, you snatched that ace, nigger.
WALTER.
Yeah, they done carried the cub to us, partner.
LIGE.
Oh, he didn’t do no such a thing. That ace was turned fair. We jus’ too
hard for you … we eats our dinner out a the blacksmith shop.
WALTER.
Aw, you all cheatin’. You know it wasn’t fair.
FRANK.
Aw, shut up, you all jus’ whoopin’ and hollerin’ for nothin’. Tryin’ to
bully the game. (FRANK and LIGE rise and shake hands grandly.)
LIGE.
Mr. Hoover, you sho is a noble president. We done stuck these niggers
full of cobs. They done got scared to play us.
LIGE (?) Scared to play you? Get back down to this table, let me spread
my mess.
LOUNGER.
Yonder comes Elder Simms. You all better squat that rabbit. They’ll be
having you all up in the church for playin’ cards.
(FRANK grabs up the cards and puts them in his pocket quickly.
Everybody picks up the money and looks unconcerned as the preacher
enters. Enter ELDER SIMMS with his two prim-looking little children by
the hand.)
ELDER SIMMS.
How do, children. Right warm for this time in November, ain’t it?
VOICE.
Yes sir, Reverend, sho is. How’s Sister Simms?
SIMMS.
She’s feelin’ kinda po’ly today. (Goes on in store with his children)
VOICE.
(Whispering loudly) Don’t see how that great big ole powerful woman
could be sick. Look like she could go bear huntin’ with her fist.
ANOTHER VOICE.
She look jus’ as good as you-all’s Baptist pastor’s wife. Pshaw, you
ain’t seen no big woman, nohow, man. I seen one once so big she went to
whip her little boy and he run up under her belly and hid six months
’fore she could find him.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Well, I knowed a woman so little that she had to get up on a soap box
to look over a grain of sand.
(REV. SIMMS comes out of store, each child behind him sucking a stick
of candy.)
SIMMS.
(To his children) Run on home to your mother and don’t get dirty on the
way. (The two children start primly off down the street but just out of
sight one of them utters a loud cry.)
SIMMS’S CHILD.
(Off stage) Papa, papa. Nunkie’s trying to lick my candy.
SIMMS.
I told you to go on and leave them other children alone.
VOICE ON PORCH.
(Kidding) Lum, whyn’t you tend to your business.
(TOWN MARSHALL rises and shoos the children off again.)
LUM.
You all varmints leave them nice chillun alone.
LIGE.
(Continuing the lying on porch) Well, you all done seen so much, but I
bet you ain’t never seen a snake as big as the one I saw when I was a
boy up in middle Georgia. He was so big couldn’t hardly move his self.
He laid in one spot so long he growed moss on him and everybody thought
he was a log, till one day I set down on him and went to sleep, and
when I woke up that snake done crawled to Florida. (Loud laughter.)
FRANK.
(Seriously) Layin’ all jokes aside though now, you all remember that
rattlesnake I killed last year was almost as big as that Georgia snake.
VOICE.
How big, you say it was, Frank?
FRANK.
Maybe not quite as big as that, but jus’ about fourteen feet.
VOICE.
(Derisively) Gimme that lyin’ snake. That snake wasn’t but four foot
long when you killed him last year and you done growed him ten feet in
a year.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Well, I don’t know about that. Some of the snakes around here is
powerful long. I went out in my front yard yesterday right after the
rain and killed a great big ol’ cottonmouth.
SIMMS.
This sho is a snake town. I certainly can’t raise no chickens for ’em.
They kill my little biddies jus’ as fast as they hatch out. And yes …
if I hadn’t cut them weeds out of the street in front of my parsonage,
me or some of my folks woulda been snake-bit right at our front door.
(To whole crowd) Whyn’t you all cut down these weeds and clean up these
streets?
HAMBO.
Well, the Mayor ain’t said nothin’ ’bout it.
SIMMS.
When the folks misbehaves in this town I think they oughta lock ’em up
in a jail and make ’em work their fine out on the streets, then these
weeds would be cut down.
VOICE.
How we gonna do that when we ain’t got no jail?
SIMMS.
Well, you sho needs a jail … you-all needs a whole lot of improvements
round this town. I ain’t never pastored no town so way-back as this one
here.
CLARK.
(Who has lately emerged from the store, fanning himself, overhears this
last remark and bristles up) What’s that you say ’bout this town?
SIMMS.
I say we needs some improvements here in this town … that’s what.
CLARK.
(In a powerful voice) And what improvements you figgers we needs?
SIMMS.
A whole heap. Now, for one thing we really does need a jail, Mayor. We
oughta stop runnin’ these people out of town that misbehaves, and lock
’em up. Others towns has jails, everytown I ever pastored had a jail.
Don’t see how come we can’t have one.
CLARK.
(Towering angrily above the preacher) Now, wait a minute, Simms. Don’t
you reckon the man who knows how to start a town knows how to run it? I
paid two hundred dollars out of this right hand for this land and
walked out here and started this town befo’ you was born. I ain’t like
some of you new niggers, come here when grapes’ ripe. I was here to cut
new ground, and I been Mayor ever since.
SIMMS.
Well, there ain’t no sense in no one man stayin’ Mayor all the time.
CLARK.
Well, it’s my town and I can be mayor jus’ as long as I want to. It was
me that put this town on the map.
SIMMS.
What map you put it on, Joe Clark? I ain’t seen it on no map.
CLARK.
(Indignant) I God! Listen here, Elder Simms. If you don’t like the way
I run this town, just’ take your flat feets right on out and git yonder
crost the woods. You ain’t been here long enough to say nothin’ nohow.
HAMBO.
(From a nail keg) Yeah, you Methodist niggers always telling people how
to run things.
TAYLOR.
(Practically unheard by the others) We do so know how to run things,
don’t we? Ain’t Brother Mayor a Methodist, and ain’t the school-teacher
a …? (His remarks are drowned out by the others.)
SIMMS.
No, we don’t like the way you’re runnin’ things. Now looka here,
(Pointing at the Marshall) You got that lazy Lum Boger here for
marshall and he ain’t old enough to be dry behind his ears yet … and
all these able-bodied means in this town! You won’t ’low nobody else to
run a store ’ceptin’ you. And looka yonder (happening to notice the
street light) only street lamp in town, you got in front of your place.
(Indignantly) We pay the taxes and you got the lamp.
VILLAGER.
Don’t you-all fuss now. How come you two always yam-yamming at each
other?
CLARK.
How come this fly-by-night Methodist preacher over here … ain’t been
here three months … tries to stand up on my store porch and tries to
tell me how to run my town? (MATTIE CLARK, the Mayor’s wife, comes
timidly to the door, wiping her hands on her apron.) Ain’t no man gonna
tell me how to run my town. I God, I ’lected myself in and I’m gonna
run it. (Turns and sees wife standing in door. Commandingly.) I God,
Mattie, git on back in there and wait on that store!
MATTIE.
(Timidly) Jody, somebody else wantin’ stamps.
CLARK.
I God, woman, what good is you? Gwan, git in. Look like between women
and preachers a man can’t have no peace. (Exit CLARK.)
SIMMS.
(Continuing his argument) Now, when I pastored in Jacksonville you
oughta see what kinda jails they got there….
LOUNGER.
White folks needs jails. We colored folks don’t need no jail.
ANOTHER VILLAGER.
Yes, we do, too. Elder Simms is right….
(The argument becomes a hubbub of voices.)
TAYLOR.
(Putting down his basket) Now, I tell you a jail….
MRS. TAYLOR.
(Emerging from the store door, arms full of groceries, looking at her
husband) Yeah, and if you don’t shut up and git these rations home I’m
gonna be worse on you than a jail and six judges. Pickup that basket
and let’s go. (TONY meekly picks up the basket and he and his wife exit
as the sound of an approaching guitar is heard off stage.)
(Two carelessly dressed, happy-go-lucky fellows enter together. One is
fingering a guitar without playing any particular tune, and the other
has his hat cocked over his eyes in a burlesque, dude-like manner.
There are casual greetings.)
WALTER.
Hey, there, bums, how’s tricks?
LIGE.
What yo’ sayin’, boys?
HAMBO.
Good evenin’ sons.
LIGE.
How did you-all make out this evenin’, boys?
JIM.
Oh, them white folks at the party shelled out right well. Kept Dave
busy pickin’ it up. How much did we make today, Dave?
DAVE.
(Striking his pocket) I don’t know, boy, but feels right heavy here.
Kept me pickin’ up money just like this…. (As JIM picks a few dance
chords, Dave gives a dance imitation of how he picked up the coins from
the ground as the white folks threw them.) We count it after while.
Woulda divided up with you already if you hadn’t left me when you seen
Daisy comin’ by. Let’s sit down on the porch and rest now.
LIGE.
She sho is lookin’ stylish and pretty since she come back with her
white folks from up North. Wearin’ the swellest clothes. And that
coal-black hair of hers jus’ won’t quit.
MATTIE CLARK.
(In doorway) I don’t see what the mens always hanging after Daisy
Taylor for.
CLARK.
(Turning around on the porch) I God, you back here again. Who’s tendin’
that store? (MATTIE disappears inside.)
DAVE.
Well, she always did look like new money to me when she was here
before.
JIM.
Well, that’s all you ever did get was a look.
DAVE.
That’s all you know! I bet I get more than that now.
JIM.
You might git it but I’m the man to use it. I’m a bottom fish.
DAVE.
Aw, man. You musta been walking round here fast asleep when Daisy was
in this county last. You ain’t seen de go I had with her.
JIM.
No, I ain’t seen it. Bet you didn’t have no letter from her while she
been away.
DAVE.
Bet you didn’t neither.
JIM.
Well, it’s just cause she can’t write. If she knew how to scratch with
a pencil I’d had a ton of ’em.
DAVE.
Shaw, man! I’d had a post office full of ’em.
OLD WOMAN.
You-all ought to be shame, carrying on over a brazen heifer like Daisy
Taylor. Jus’ cause she’s been up North and come back, I reckon you
cutting de fool sho ’nough now. She ain’t studying none of you-all
nohow. All she wants is what you got in your pocket.
JIM.
I likes her but she won’t git nothin’ outa me. She never did. I
wouldn’t give a poor consumpted cripple crab a crutch to cross the
River Jurdon.
DAVE.
I know I ain’t gonna give no woman nothin’. I wouldn’t give a dog a
doughnut if he treed a terrapin.
LIGE.
Youse a cottontail dispute … both of you. You’d give her anything you
got. You’d give her Georgia with a fence ’round it.
OLD MAN.
Yeah, and she’d take it, too.
LINDSAY.
Don’t distriminate the woman like that. That ain’t nothing but hogism.
Ain’t nothin’ the matter with Daisy, she’s all right.
(Enter TEETS and BOOTSIE tittering coyly and switching themselves.)
BOOTSIE.
Is you seen my mama?
OLD WOMAN.
You know you ain’t lookin’ for no mama. Jus’ come back down here to
show your shape and fan around awhile. (BOOTSIE and TEETS going into
the store.)
BOOTSIE & TEETS.
No, we ain’t. We’se come to get our mail.
OLD WOMAN.
(After girls enter store) Why don’t you all keep up some attention to
these nice girls here, Bootsie and Teets. They wants to marry.
DAVE.
Aw, who thinkin’ ’bout marryin’ now? They better stay home and eat
their own pa’s rations. I gotta buy myself some shoes.
JIM.
The woman I’m gonna marry ain’t born yet and her maw is dead.
(GIRLS come out giggling and exit.) (JIM begins to strum his guitar
lightly at first as the talk goes on.)
CLARK.
(To DAVE and JIM) Two of the finest gals that ever lived and friendly
jus’ like you-all is. You two boys better take ’em back and stop them
shiftless ways.
HAMBO.
Yeah, hurry up and do somethin’! I wants to taste a piece yo’ weddin’
cake.
JIM.
(Embarrassed but trying to be jocular) Whut you trying to rush me up so
fast?… Look at Will Cody here (Pointing to little man on porch) he been
promising to bring his already wife down for two months … and nair one
of us ain’t seen her yet.
DAVE.
Yeah, how you speck me to haul in a brand new wife when he can’t lead a
wagon-broke wife eighteen miles? Me, I’m going git one soon’s Cody show
me his’n. (General sly laughter at CODY’S expense.)
WALTER.
(Snaps his fingers and pretends to remember something) Thass right,
Cody. I been intending to tell you…. I know where you kin buy a
ready-built house for you and yo’ wife. (Calls into the store.) Hey,
Clark, cime on out here and tell Cody ’bout dat Bradley house. (To
CODY.) I know you wants to git a place of yo’ own so you kin settle
down.
HAMBO.
He done moved so much since he been here till every time he walk out in
his back yeard his chickens lay down and cross they legs.
LINDSAY.
Cody, I thought you tole us you was going up to Sanford to bring dat
’oman down here last Sat’day.
LIGE.
That ain’t de way he tole me ’bout it. Look, fellers, (Getting up and
putting one hand on his hips and one finger of the other hand against
his chin coquettishly) Where you reckon I’ll be next Sat’day night?…
Sittin’ up side of Miz Cody. (Great burst of laughter.)
SYKES JONES.
(Laughing) Know what de folks tole me in Sanford? Dat was another man’s
wife. (Guffaws.)
CODY.
(Feebly) Aw, you don’t know whut you talkin’ bout.
JONES.
Naw, I don’t know, but de folks in Sanford does. (Laughing) Dey tell me
when dat lady’s husband come home Sat’day night, ole Cody jumped out de
window. De man grabbed his old repeater and run out in de yard to head
him off. When Cody seen him come round de corner de house (Gesture) he
flopped his wings and flew up on de fence. De man thowed dat shotgun
dead on him. (Laughs) Den, man! Cody flopped his wings lak a buzzard
(Gesture) and sailed on off. De man dropped to his knees lak dis
(Gesture of kneeling on one knee and taking aim) Die! die! die!
(Supposedly sound of shots as the gun is moved in a circle following
the course of Cody’s supposed flight) Cody just flew right on off and
lit on a hill two miles off. Then, man! (Gesture of swift flight) In
ten minutes he was back here in Eatonville and in he bed.
WALTER.
I passed there and seen his house shakin’, but I didn’t know how come.
HAMBO.
Aw, leave de boy alone…. If you don’t look out some of y’all going to
have to break his record.
LIGE.
I’m prepared to break it now. (General laughter.)
JIM.
Well, anyhow, I don’t want to marry and leave Dave … yet awhile.
(Picking a chord.)
DAVE.
And I ain’t gonna leave Jim. We been palling around together ever since
we hollered titty mama, ain’t we, boy?
JIM.
Sho is. (Music of the guitar increases in volume. DAVE shuffles a few
steps and the two begin to sing.)
JIM:
Rabbit on the log.
I ain’t got no dog.
How am I gonna git him?
God knows.
DAVE:
Rabbit on the log.
Ain’t got no dog.
Shoot him with my rifle
Bam! Bam!
(Some of the villagers join in song and others get up and march around
the porch in time with the music. BOOTSIE and TEETS re-enter, TEETS
sticking her letter down the neck of her blouse. JOE LINDSAY grabs
TEETS and WALTER THOMAS grabs BOOTSIE. There is dancing, treating and
general jollification. Little children dance the parse-me-la. The music
fills the air just as the sun begins to go down. Enter DAISY TAYLOR
coming down the road toward the store.)
CLARK.
(Bawls out from the store porch) I God, there’s Daisy again.
(Most of the dancing stops, the music slows down and then stops
completely. DAVE and JIM greet DAISY casually as she approaches the
porch.)
JIM.
Well, Daisy, we knows you, too.
DAVE.
Gal, youse jus’ as pretty as a speckled pup.
DAISY.
(Giggling) I see you two boys always playin’and singin’ together. That
music sounded right good floating down the road.
JIM.
Yeah, child, we’se been playin’for the white folks all week. We’se
playin’for the colored now.
DAVE.
(Showing off, twirling his dancing feet) Yeah, we’re standin’on our
abstract and livin’on our income.
OLD MAN.
Um-ump, but they ain’t never workin’. Just round here playing as usual.
JIM.
Some folks think you ain’t workin’lessen you smellin’a mule. (He sits
back down on box and picks at his guitar.) Think you gotta be beatin’a
man to his barn every mornin’.
VOICE.
Glad to be round home with we-all again, ain’t you Daisy?