Classic Audiobook Collection - The Tar Baby - And Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris ~ Full Audiobook [folklore]

Episode Date: February 2, 2023

The Tar Baby - And Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris audiobook. Genre: folklore In The Tar Baby - And Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus, Joel Chandler Harris gathers some of the most memorable Uncle Remus selections into a compact, lively listening experience. Set within the familiar frame of a young boy visiting the elderly storyteller Uncle Remus, the book turns quickly to the animal world of Brer Rabbit, Brer Fox, Brer Bear, and their neighbors, where every friendly chat can become a contest of wits. The centerpiece is the famous Tar Baby episode, a comic trap that sparks a fast-moving struggle between cunning and force, followed by additional rhymes and tales that echo the cadences of oral storytelling. As Brer Rabbit schemes, escapes, and occasionally overreaches, listeners encounter a world where the small survive by thinking faster than the strong. Beneath the humor and rhythmic language are themes of resilience, deception, and the complicated ways stories pass between generations and cultures. This collection highlights Harris's enduring, controversial place in American letters, preserving folktale patterns and character types that have traveled far beyond the cabin porch where Uncle Remus first speaks. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:12:11) Chapter 02 (00:15:48) Chapter 03 (00:20:06) Chapter 04 (00:22:41) Chapter 05 (00:28:14) Chapter 06 (00:33:03) Chapter 07 (00:38:21) Chapter 08 (00:43:06) Chapter 09 (00:47:48) Chapter 10 (00:52:28) Chapter 11 (00:58:20) Chapter 12 (01:00:25) Chapter 13 (01:05:51) Chapter 14 (01:08:56) Chapter 15 (01:11:40) Chapter 16 (01:13:49) Chapter 17 (01:15:54) Chapter 18 (01:20:56) Chapter 19 (01:23:17) Chapter 20 (01:25:27) Chapter 21 (01:27:19) Chapter 22 (01:29:53) Chapter 23 (01:31:22) Chapter 24 (01:32:40) Chapter 25 (01:34:31) Chapter 26 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Tor Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. Brerabit and the Tor Baby In 11,100 and full of fleas when they raise such a crop of guber peas, The creatures was all there's as chummy as you please. They raced and they rassel, they jumped and they played, and there wasn't nothing tall for to make them frayed. They had the parties, both dar and here, with May pop pudding, and simmon beer, and the way they keep the force of July's was in eating goobers and fresh

tater pies, and there wasn't no doubt, and no, perhaps, that they helped one another out with the craps. And they had the frolics in the fall, when they scorted Miss Meadows to the ball, with sachet ladies and balance all, they had mighty little for the set them back, good health and good craps, but what they lack was good clean water when the the branch run dry, because the river was muddy when low or high. They mighta got a well by selling corn, but the man what dug them ain't been born. So they rocked along from day to day, and hold the corn and saved the hay. When the sun held its own up in the sky, and the long drought come and the branch run dry, Mr. Fox and Mr. Wolf looked like they'd die, and all the creatures was in the same

fix, sapping old brer rabbit with his irritating tricks. He went his way, and he had his fun, if the branch was dry or if it run. He loped along with his lippity clips, a-wiggling his nose and a-working his lips. And his morning drink was all as new. It was sweet gum, sap, and honey-dew. The kind what you find in the heart of a flower, or the poplar leaf, if you'll wait for the hour, and watch for the moonshines sweetening shower. But the other creatures, e'-caughts the knack,

they was dull as walking to milling back. They never took notice how the birds can sing, how the black bees zooms when he's on the wing, how the stars swing round, how the flowers smell, and they dodge from thunder with well, well, well. They wished mighty strong that the cance was coulds, twill the day mr fox got back from the woods he come back he did and says he by jing you can believe me or not but i done found the spring and i feel like cutting the pigeon wing and it runs so clean and it runs so clear that it do like it's whispering in your ear with its goo goo gooooooo it's way o'y in the chicka-pink wood and the creatures all day was happy mon they try

and they gallop and then they run, with a tippy tip and a long-time swing to where they can see the Googling spring. Well, the spring was dar at the head of the dream, where the Kalamas shook its flags are green, and the cat-tails tried for it to make a scream, the creatures all laugh, and then they squeal, and they hopped all round on toe and heel.

Brer Rabbit, he asks, What's the hullabaloo? and they answer back it's a spring for true then old bruh rabbit took another char er his terbacher and he work his jaw and sniffed the hour and shed his eyes and fling back his head and look mighty wise now the spring had been dar since de flood but one fine mornin twas fuller mud an old bruh rabbit he chawed his cud and a'er dat tw'n't never clear and there warn't no googoo for the creatures to hear twas mud in the morning an mud at night tain't no use er talkin dat mud was a sight mr fox as de finda watched o'n the spring and he tried to discover what kinder thing was a stirring-up mud before night and day, and he watch and he wait twill he had his way, and one fine morning he found some tracks,

and he shook his head, I'm telling you the facts, and he went off and got him some shoemaker's wax, and pitch and rosam and din and dour, he mold him a baby I order to tar, with leg and body and head in hand, and it looked like it's set in dar, playing into sand, and he hide hisself whar he can see, whomsoever going to happen to the tar baby,

De tar baby, oh, de tar baby, oh, and then he hide and lay mighty low. But Rabbit, he skipped long at last, he skipped sort of slow, then he skipped kind of fast, because he used the spring as a looking-glass, and he seed the ta-baby sitting there, good morning sir and how's your maw and how does your coporosity seem to sagasuate says he and where's your manners you must be deaf you'll hear if i hit you and you lose your breath brer rabbit he wait wit to be show tor baby say nothing mr fox lay low you better tell me howdy you better make your bow no trouble to show you done or how and maybe you're you is keen for to get in a row. Good morning, this morning I'll ask you once more. Torbaby say nothing.

Mr. Fox lay low. Brub, rabbit, he stomp his foot on the ground. You might have stuck up, but I'll fetch you down. You see this hand? Well, I'll hit you a blip that'll split you open from hat to hip. What an you, man, and why did you grow? Tor baby say nothing. Mr. Fox lay low. Brub Rabbit made a pass at him for de luck, and he hauled off and hit him in the eye,

could chuck, and tried to jump away, but the hand are done stuck. Turn me loose you, villain, or I'll hit you again. I'll give you a joke that'll cave you in. Brer Rabbit draw it back. I'll try you for pluck, and bift them again, and the other hand stuck. you see this foot i'll give you a kick that'll land you down yonder close to old nick just turn me loose and i'll let you go tor baby say nothin mr fox lay low brer rabbit hit the ground with his foot and say you'll be sorry you pested with me this day so dez turn me loose and go on away then he up with his foot and kicked him blam i'll let i show you that's who i am but the foot unstuck. Will you let me go? Tor baby say nothing. Mr. Fox, lay low. Then Brow Rabbit feel like he about to get vexed, cause he spec'd every minute would be the next, and he monstrous sorry that it was so, Tar baby, say nothing. Mr. Fox, lay low. Well, the other foot stuck and added that,

brer rabbit, he grinned like a chessy cat. If you don't turn me loose, I'll butt. you flat i'll scatty o' brains i'll ruin you show tore baby say nothin mr fox lay low brur rabbit he budded as hard as he could and his head it stuck let him do what he would and the tor baby helped him hard and fast and it looked like his time done come at last Mr. Fox sauntered out from his hiding-place, with a blood-red smile running across his face. He scraped his foot, and then he bow. He licked his chops, and then he low. How'd-do, brou-rabbit, how you feel no-how. With a throbbing heart and a shaking knee, Brur-Rabbit was scared as scared could be.

You were mighty stuck up, Mr. Fox, he'd say. and I'm surprised to see it at this time of day. He walked around. Here's a goobishel. I can scarcely believe it. Well, well, well. He pulled off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Now I want to show you just what I believe's.

And he grinned again the grin that was red, and he opened his mouth for to let it spread, twill he show all the tushes in his head. he grabbed bruh rabbit by the leg and you oughta hear that creature beg mr fox he say what i'm goin to do is to pay you be foe for the old and the new Oh, you needin' to talk, I know you're nice. But you fool me once, and you fool me twice. You steal my goobers, and then you fling a whole pile of mud right in that spring. But I got you now, and you'll hide, I'll stretch.

I'll lorn you something, you trifling wretch. I'll give you the old-time buckratetch. I skin you alive, I drown you dead. I'll break your neck, I'll crack your head. I wallop you twill I make you think, I'm the patarola you wall'-eyed slink. Brer rabbit sniffle, and then he say, I know, mighter well, you have your way.

You may drown me, sir, if it's your desires, but please don't fling me in de bris. The ta'er was so rank that the brerabbit sneeze, but he still was a-shaking in the knees, and he keep on a wimpling. Please, please. Oh, yes, I'll please, Mr. Fox, he said, and I'll please myself this very day.

You mayn't be mine, but I think you is, and I'm sure going to bake you twill you sis. I'll kindle the brush heap and fling you in, and I'll lay that'll cook and crisp your skin. Brer rapid, he said, Does fetch on your fires, but please don't flame in the briars. "'Brough Fox, he's study and rub his chin. "'He rub it once, and he rub it again,

"'and he wonk one eye and grinned a grin. "'I'll hang you high and maybe higher, "'and I'll fling you in the big quagmire. "'Do thus as you please, bro, rabbit cry, "'and I'll ask no reason for which or why. "'You can drown me deep, you can hang me high, "'and I'll not tear one drap from my eye. You can hamstring me with red-hot wires, but please, oh, please keep me out of De Briars.

Mr. Fox, he took him at his wood and saunt him sailing like a bird, as if he was fettered instead of furred. Right sprang in De Briar's growing dar, is thick every bit as the thickest har. Brer Rabbit, he holler, I ain't got a scratch. I was bred and born in Debris. patch you flung me in and lift de latch oh one fine morning when day was dawning i was bred and born in de briar patch end of brer rabbit and the tar baby section two of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle remus by joel chanler harris this lebervox recording is in the public domain recording by phil chenevere the apple tree that's a mighty queer tale about the apple tree, in the paradise garden where Adam run free, where the butterflies drunk honey with old mammy be, and talk about good times, I bet you he had him, Adam,

old man Adam and the apple tree. He woke one morning with a pulling at his sleeve, he opened one eye, and dar was Eve. He shook her hand with, honey, don't you grieve? Talk about good times, I bet you they had him, Adam. adam and eve and the apple-tree then eve took a bite o the apple-fruit and adam he bit and then they scoot dars where the niggers learned the quick cali-hout and run and hid behind the fig-tree talk about troubles i bet you they had em adam and ee behind the fig tree they had de ferox and they had de flings and then added dat de fun took wings honey my de sweet but bees got stings Talk about hard times, I bet you they had'em, Adam, Adam and Eve behind the fig tree.

Because out of that garden, they had for the skin, for to look for the crack where Satan crope in. They search far and wide, and they search mighter well. Eve she knowed, but she fused for to tell. Old Satan's trail was all rubbed out, sapping a track or two where he walked about, Talk about troubles. Well, I bet you they had'em, Adam, Adam and Eve, and all the kin. And when they got back, the gate was shot, and that was the pay what Adam got. In that garden he went no more.

The overseer give him a shovel and a hole. A mule and plow and a swingle tree. Talk about hard times. I bet you they had them, Adam. And all of his children, both slave and free, they had em because of the fruit o the apple tree and the chiliner at em and the chillin's kin they all got smeared with the pitch o sin they shot their eyes to the big hair at her and flung sin round with a terrible splatter and collied with satan and then what de matter and troubles well i bet you they had em adam the chiliner adam they forget de prey they had em they had em and they keep on a had n'n um and they keep on the hadin um down to this day. But that wasn't the last of the apple tree,

because she scatter her seeds both fur and free, and that's what the matter with you and me. I knows the feelings what fudge or the fall, the red apple and old Satan's call. Lord bless your soul, I knows them all. I'm kind of lopsided and pigeon-toed, but watch me keep in the middle of the road, because the troubles I got is a-mobile.

my de big load talk about troubles i got em and had em and i know mighty well did i catch em from adam and the apple seeds what he scatters so free adam adam and eve and de apple tree end of the apple tree section three of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle remus by joel chanler harris this leaver vogue's recording is in the public domain recording by phil shenever de gator and the rabbit gizzard mr rabbit come galloping home from de frolic but a look at the creek made him feel solemn colic cause the creek in the night dun turn to a river and the water looks so wet it make him shiver he holla and holla and holla at the ferry twas run by a man which his name was jerry but the creek so high the ferry warn't dar and jerry was treed by old brar bar he hallo he holler twill he wak'n twill'n't w'n't o brr yalligator which he dine on pine-nots and sweet pertainter brugator stuck his nose from the muddy water and asked brer rabbit how was his daughter brer rabbit he say de ain't no tellin cause when he left home her head was a swelling some o br'r fox chillin come by an rock ter and he had a rush off an get the doctor and on top o dat here de creek come arisen it'd be anything he ever laid eyes on br'ra rabbit says the gator you show is a rover but this one time i'll put you over br'ra rabbit he chew twill his jaw was jimber brr gator he say yo tail might a limber it's made dat away says the alligator we're all jotted up according to nader br'ra rabbit he'll ow i spect that's so sir and mo'n'n that i'll go sir i'll get on your back if you'll come a little closer i'm a-dreat'n at the water moin mo's so

yalligator flowed up he's light as a feather with a word here and there about the weather and how cold the water was down in the slushes and a grin on his mouth that showed all his tushes bruh rabbit he say to the grinning yalligator i'll be much obliged if you'll show me the waiter right on your back just jump on kinda straddling you do de pantin and i'll do the paddling and right through the water they went a-skimming bruh rabbit appanting and the yalligator swimming bruh rabbit he say yo show got your hand in an if i ain't mistoken you're er passing de landin you got good eyes says bruh yalligator i've been waiting long an i ain't a good waiter you ain't forgot that day in the stubble when you made me shake hands with red-hot trouble when you got me into dry grass and sighted a fire and i squinched myself by rolling into mya brer rabbit he sot d'ar a shaking an a shivering and more than that he was quaking and quivering i been so sick i was nigh to dying and the doctor come and found me crying he looked me over from a to isard and he said that i need some rabbit gizzard now all this make bruh rabbit feel funny but e up an low i'm de man fer yo money de folks all say i'm a quare old creeter cause i'm long been a-hunting for de gizzard eater i got a biggin but she dun gunn me trouble since the doctor found that she is double i'm a-telling you somethin what i ain't had oter but she has to come out every time i cross water the doctor say my skin won't hold me if my giss'd smell water dat what he'd hold me and last night i hitter in the hickory hauler and i'll take you dar if you doth but fowler brugator ain't hurt with too much sense he can't write his name and he can't climb a fence

and he steer for the bank where all the trees is where the owl shake her wings and wake up the breezes he swum and he steered twill he got to the dry land brad rabbit fetched the jump and he lit on the highland with good-bye brugator you want to change your habits if you bleeds to eat gizzards does haunt your unc rabbits end of de gator and the rabbit gizzard section four of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle remus by joel chanler harris this lever box recording is in the public domain recording by phil chenevere a wishing song at a yusin de spring for a lookin glass a wish wishin mr rabbit took a walk on the pasture grass a wish wishin de gals come along will you let us pass des a wishing he bowed he did and he shot one eye a wish wishin wish an he tip his beaver when they pass by des a wishing oh ladies all ain't you scared hain'tt's a wish wishin skeered or no we're goin to the dance desa wishing miss meadows dunn say that we can go a wish wishin wish an show em how to skip on the heel and toe des a wishing and it's oh mr rabbit won't you go long a wish wish wishin and that's the reason i'm a singin the song des a wish a wishing and oh mr rabbit does you know the place a wish wish wishing mr rabbit char his cud and wrinkle his face days o wishing

it's right over yonder at the head o the dream a wish wishin wish where the branch runs ghoul and leaves is green days o wishing mr fox'll scrape the fiddle miss cow's will blow the horn a wish wish wishin and the tune gwine to tell how the sheep shell on days o wishing mr rabbit he's to dar slicker'd and sin a wish wishin looking at the gals an rubbing his chin days o wishing and ladies all can you read me this riddle a wish wish wishin what goin to happen to my noodle niddle a wish wish wishin when there's so much fox and so little fiddle days a-wishing so ladies all if you're You'll scoos in me, I wish, wishin' I'll saunter round to the trembling tree, days of wishing. I'll slip through the bushes, and up I'll creep, a wish, wish, wishing, and listen to the mockingbird talking in his sleep, days a wishing. End of a wishing song.

Section 5 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus. This Lieberbox recording is in the public domain, recording by Phil Schenever. how brerterrapin learned to fly brou terrapin tired of promenading round and he lay in the sun right flat on the ground his foots was cold and his eyes was red and it looked like something done bunked up his head but he watched brub buzzard a-sailing in the sky and he wished from his heart that he could fly fill o my lunna leaner fill o'-a-lea lie he frown and he grunt and he gron he sniffling and snuffle he wheeze and he moan he dropped the big tear in the acorn cup and the bug that run out he gobble him up brubhuzard flew and he flew'd mighty high He flap his wings, and he winked his eye, fill of my lunalina, fill of my lean a lie. He see, bro, Terrapin lying flat, and he chuckled to himself. Ho, ho, look at that.

It's a mighty funny place for to make a bed, and he may be sick, and he may be dead. So he dropped down slow, and he dropped down sly, but Terrapin watching with his red eye, "'Filling my lunalina, fill of my lean a lie.' "'Buzzard, he lit a little up the slope "'and hit the gate called the buzzard-lope, "'and then, bro, Terrapin, took in his head, "'and he laid just like he done gone to bed. "'Brubuzzard, he holler, hey, ha, hi, hi.

"'And Terrapin spawned, ay, aye, aye, "'Phil of my Luna Lena, fill of my lean alive.' "'You keep your old self-shot up in your own. Shell, broussard Lau, but I hope you are well. Brough, Terrapins say, he's feeling he's smart. He's what a man kin would have swelled up hot, and the liver all blue and the blood red eye, and he moaned and groaned, and he cried, oh my, fillin my lunalina, fillin my line. Better get the doctor, bruzzards, see.

He'll kill your show enough if there's any way. I done Ben saw him, brou terrapin, law. and he up an'n'n''n'-t'n'''n''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' tot you low and I'll tote you high, I'll tote you past, and I'll tote you by. Fillin'a lunalina, fill of my lean a lie. He ruffled his feathers, and he flop his wings, with, this is the trouble that friendship brings, but I'll take it all and ask for more. If so be, I can get you to go. Brutaripen studied, and he looked at the sky, because his heart was sot on learning to fly.

"'Filling my lunalina, feelin'a lie.' "'Down on his hunkers, bruh, buzzard squat, "'and up on his back, bruh, Tara Pingot, "'to a slip and fall, but he got on, "'and the next news you know, they both was gone. "'A sailing low and a ceiling high, "'a selling fur and a selling nigh. "'Filling a lunna, feel of my lunna, feel of my lean a lie.

"'Now how shall I learn?' br' terrapin say bruh buzzet spawned i show you de way i'm a flyin high but i start down then you turn loose and sail all round brer terrapin say an he shot his eye if we go much higher we'll stirb the sky fillin malun alina feel'em a lena feelinna lina lie terrapin turn loose and down he come with a blip and a blap and a blim blam blum he come with a squeam with a squeam he come with a squall, they ain't nobody ever had seecha fall. And a mighty good reason, he was up so high that when he hit the ground, he was dead, mighty nigh, fill of my lunalina, feel of my lean a lie. Buzzard, he followed for to see it done well with lye old friend, it seems like you fell, and all you had to do was to flop your wings, tear up and groan, he said,

says, by jings, I know one thing, and that ain't two. I know one thing with my fillamaloo. I know one thing, and I know it right. I know how to fly, but I don't know how to light. Some rudder told me as I sail in the sky, learn how to light, for you learn how to fly. Filamaloon alina, filamalina lie. End of how brerterer, and learned to fly section six of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle remus by joel chandler harris this labor box recording is in the public domain recording by phil chenevere it's good to be old if you know how to do some fifty year ago if i'd a been told that some fine day i'd be glad to be old i'd a sass'd em all an laughed in de face an dar'n't em to run me a mile-foot race i'd a up anna cut the pigeon wing cause i o'allis felt like a cold in the spring i'd a whirled in the air and lit on my feet for when it come to dat i couldn't be beat i'd ha'n't be beat i'd ha'n't be beat i'd ha'n't a grin right at them, but now I know, lots better than I know some fifty year ago.

Because now I can sit right flat in my chair and call back the days from year to year, and with no need to call, because time I sits down, they all comes a flitting and a flying round. And all with the Sunday doings on, and all the troubles done clean gone, and I sets up with them and I draps to sleep, glad for to get my fun so cheap. It's the same as a frolic, for now I know, lots better than I know some fifty year ago. No shade for me.

I can set in the sun, and I hear them chilling, and see him run, and over the hills when the day is long, I can hear the plow hands home in song, and in the creek bottom go bingo bang, I can hear the racket and the new ground gang. And it seemed might a queer that it come to pass, because chilling and niggers is under the grass.

They are dire, they are here, and one thing show I never would have believed it fifty year ago. Little chill and I, and you think they are gone, and you weeping well with the morning on, family and friends, they are took in two, and it seems like the reaper won't never get true. both big and little both young and old they all got the answer to the call o the roll they answer and go does you speck that's all is the oak-tree sorry when the acorns fall bless you honey i know what i know lots better than i did some fifty year ago they all comes back and they comes to stay and you has em with you both night and day and i dunna wear your eyes if you can't see Them children are standing right at my knee,

with shining eyes and hard falling free, one little gal and little boys three. And most every day when delight gets pale, I catch myself for telling them a tale, and I goes on and tells it, for now I know, lots better than I know some fifty year ago. Uncle Remus, Uncle Remus, they hollers at me. Please tell about the rabbit what clom the tree.

And then they laughs and claps their hands, with this is the way that bruh rabbit stands. And then they mingles with the chilling that's new, and I get so dazed I don't know what to do. And when they plays at Hiding Switch, I scratches my head to tell t'other from which, and I never could tell if I didn't know, lots more than I knowed some fifty year ago.

Some fifty year ago, if I'd have been told, that some fine day I'd be glad to be. old and there'd a quarrel yet i'm surely glad for i can't make a move but it's please wait dad run get daddy's hat run get daddy's cane come brush daddy's coat ain't you fraid it'll ray i waits for it all and then i has to wait twill some of em runs and opens to gate and it makes me laugh for now i know lots more than i know some fifty year ago and it's just that away day in and and day out every time i turn round every time i walk about no matter when i come no matter when i go it's just like dancing to jim along joe it's just like skipping to jim along jeans all day when i'm wake all night when i dreams they're playing close by no matter where i stand and when i doze off they're holding my hand they're always with me cause now i know lots better dey Then I know some fifty year ago. End of. It's good to be old if you know how to do.

Section 7 of the Tar Baby and other rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Lieber Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Phil Schenever. The hard-headed woman. Now then, honey, I tell you what. You'll be like the woman and the big dinner pot. If you don't mind your mammy, you don't see how come it. Well, I tell you right now, you ain't fur from it.

You can blindfold my eyes, and I'll call your name. It's, hello, Mr. Hardhead. It you shame. You can grin and twist and squirming frown, but I know your name by the way it sound. Don't pull that shoe knife. Just put it down. Don't pester my pegs, and drop that all.

You'll stick yourself with it, and then you'll squall. Don't fool with my feelings. Don't scatter the tacks. You'll drop them on the flow and lose them into cracks. Don't tangle my twine and don't char up my wax. What can you do? Well, I set still a minute, and the way for it to do it is to commence and begin it. I tell you, honey, you done got so while that nobody will believe you're Miss Sally's child.

You want to hear a tale? Well, you show do scare me, because how can you sit right still and hear me? The old sow done got up from where are you doctor, and the heifer is looking for to see who rocked her. You're sure the alien, and you'll have to see the doctor. I don't know what gwanda happened if they ain't something done. If you ain't rocking craters, they ain't no fun. Boys, pleased to have fun, you say that yourself, or else they might as well be put on the shelf. It might have been Gregory, uh, Alabama, for the goodness sake.

put down that hammer in one oe'er that lived the ooman she was nine parts engine and one part human she lived in a wood-lot close to water and she done a heap o things that she ain't had on her the neighbors say that she done killed her daughter she had a bad tipper and her clacking tongue was long and loud and mighty well hung her old man done the best that he could he split up kenneling and he chopped up wood he farch home meal and e farch home meat yet she never would cook what he want to eat she was hard-headed honey just like you and what folks wanted was the thing she won't do but she'd scold and quarre the whole day true and she'd be contrary and act like a mule will the neighbors all say she's a friday barn fool if her husband wants grits she'd cook him greens if he wants roast tater she'd bile in beans if he want fried meat she'd make corn bread and de pon was so hard twi'n broke his head if she had a hit him he'd a dun gone dead she'd kindle a fire with sparrow grass and give her old man the wuss kind o's ass she'd burn'd the spare rib and scorch the tripe when he comes to meanness she was good and rude an ripe. Her old man watch and wait and pray for the time for the come when she change her way. He spit in the ashes and make a cross mark, and something rudder told him to wait till

dark, when the moon looks pale and the loony dogs bark, and put in the pot when the big owls hoot, some thunderwood buds and calamus root. Well, that night the omen comes in kind of late, and she slammed things round like you does de gate. At her kicking up a rip-it and getting things hot, she built the big fire on the dinner-pot. She put in some dumperlings, likewise some peas, and flung in the sheep's head on top of these. The water gunned to bubble, and the victuals it fout,

twilled the sheep-head butted the dump-lens out, and the peas went flying all round and about. The omen, she stripped off a home-spun sack with no matter what happens, that pot I'll crack. She got the axe, but the pot see her coming, and they jump off the fire and dust winter humming. Mine entered the woods that pot did sneak, beyond the branch and way beyond the creek.

It run and run till the omen get weak, and when she got couch with a bamboo brier, here come the pot with a chunk of red fire, and then she yell, and then she's, squall, and the pot was there for the catcher when she fall. And she'd never come back, and the pot just laughed, hopping and a skipping up the spring path. It comit did, and straddled the place where it'd been setting at and washed its face,

and scraped off the mud and wiped off the grease, and the man eat his supper for one time in peace. End of the hard-headed woman. Section 8 of the Tar Baby And other rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Phil Schenever. Two tales in one, one tale in two. Folks, think they're smart, and I expect it so,

because most anybody pleased to know what they know, But when you dig down to the truth and all, you feel like creeping through a hole in the wall. And you don't want the hole for to be too wide, because you want a place where you can hide. For that what you know might as certain and show. Ain't more than a thimble for what you ain't know. When you run your head in a hornet's nest, you can say what you please and think the rest. But the very first thing that you want to do is to jump up from the hour and show. shuffle your shoe.

Man, I wish you'd hush. You want to get away. They ain't money enough for to make you stay. Well, what you don't know, it's got claws and wings. It zooms in your, yeah, it zooms and stings. What? Tell you a tale that I don't know.

Is you ever heard the one about tippy toe? You ain't? Well, that's mighty funny to me. And I spec I better tell about flitter my knee. One, tail in two, and two tails in one. by the time they're finished their mighty nigh done you listen and laugh you listen and cry but your face will be straight and your eye will be dry they was born in a well and they want no doubt that they couldn't fall in so they had to fall out and the folks all say that it show was a sin for to be falling out when they ardor fall in and they wondered and wondered how that can be and hunted and hunted and hunted for fleeter my knee, but he weren't to be found near tippy toe, and that's how come

they ain't nobody know. And down to this day, when folks sitting still, and looking way off cross the creek and the hill, and frowning up when they shuts their eyes, putting on specs for to make them look wise, they're wondering, especially if they rubs the chin, how it feels to fall out when you order fall in. They're watching and waiting and trying to see little tippy toe and flit of my knee. Sometimes in the night you'll hear a mouse squeal because tippy toe don't trot on his heel. And sometimes you'll wake and hear the wall crack, but it's flea of my knee a driving attack.

They gets in the kitchen and makes the pans leak, and they creeps in the closet and makes the shoes squeak. And they stop to clock, but they're pretty. The prettiest trick is to swing on the pendulum and make it tick. In the middle of the night when you hear the dog howl, and the bullfrog grumble like he's talking to the owl, and to kill the holler like he's skeered to death, and the wind do like she's holding her breath, and the moon slips along twill she finds a cloud,

for to hide behind and the geese's all crowd close up to get her, it's because they see little tippy toe and flit-o, and flitre my knee. And the katy did's, with their chattering song, you'd think twould take them all night long, for to tell what they ain't do and what they done, a jawing and a sputin one by one. But turning twelve, they summers down,

and you can't hear one for miles around. They are more than willing for to give the flow to fleeter my knee and tippy toe. And children like you better keep their eyes gunn, so they'll know what's mischief from that what's fun. Because flea to my knee and tippy toe, they're watching you close, whamsoever you go,

whenso ever you go, whenso ever you do, they'll wit you all day and the whole night true. They'll raise up the cover when you're in bed, and put your toes and tossle your head, and you whimper and groan and jump in your sleep, and be sliding down places that sleep, and steep, and raw-head and bloody bones will be driving his teams, both backwards and forwards

through all of your dreams. How are you going to keep them off? Why, honey, whirl in, and try to be good, just as good as you can. End of two tales in one, one tale in two. Section 9 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Libre-Vox recording is in the public don't. R. R. R. R. R. R. R. R. Rove. Rove. Now, honey, you listen and keep right still, and I'll tell you about the frog what lived nigh the mill. He stayed in the pond when he went on the bank,

and hot days he stayed where the grass was rank. He liked cold water, and he liked the sun. He was marked like a clown and full of fun. When he stood up, he sought, and he hopped when he run. Day in and day out, he was much the same. Brub Bullfrog, they named him, and he answered to the name. Pop-eyed, he was, with no horror on his head, and there wasn't no telling when he went to bed, cause he'd watch all day and Bella all night, and the creatures all say that that that wasn't right, and more than that, they say t'was a shame that any kinder creature She'll ruin his name. Brough bullfrog say,

Come along, Oh, come. I ain't got nothing but a juggerum. Jiggerum, jiggerum, I'll give you some. The creeders, they say it's wuss and wuss, and the first news you know, he'll up and cuss. Or he'll get so mad that he'll swell up and bust. Brough rabbit, he hear about the jug of rum,

and he smack his mouth with a yum, yum, yum. and he'd study and study how he'll get him a dram and by and by he went on the old mill dam the water looks so cool it'd make him shiver bullfrog say tain't cool is the river the water lap lap brer rabbit's a skin creep bruh bullfrog beller knee deep knee deep brer rub rabbit jump in curse plish curse splash and it was like to habend the last of his hash he fight a snort and he farched a sneeze it made him cough and it made him wheeze he all is strangle when it's deeper than his knees bruh rabbit put out and put out faster and the frog he laughed like a bull in the pastor out o dat brer rabbit he watchin wait he ris mighty soon and he went to bed late he watched by the poplar and by the mill gate there was times when he laughed and times when he grinned he was fix'd sin'n fur to take that bullfrog in. Well, Tom Flickadon and brubboolfrog, Gunter think about going from the pond to the bog.

He wash his neck and he wipe his feet, so the gals would think he was mighty sweet. And when he come out, mon he was dressed, a long green coat and a white silk vest, breeches for the match and shoes with buckles, and a green umbrella for to keep off the speckles, and a little cocked hat, full of green and white speckles twas a right smart piece from the pond to the river so he done up his tail in the umbrilla kiver ay ay that's somethin that don't seem to strike you well laugh on honey and make folks like him

bruh rabbit see him comin and just for fun make like he's scared and broke and run brub bo frog bellard whar's my gun and hopped on out of his hard as he can, and bruh rabbit try hard for the hide a grin. He led brough fox to a holler tree, and in he went with, You can't get me, and out he popped on the other side, whilst the frog hopped in with his umbrella wide. The frog holler out, I dare you to come, and he talked this like he was in a bass drum. Now old smart the rabbit had done brung his axe, and he hit the holler some mighty hard I ain't telling nothing but the natural facts.

The frog gets scared at so much maulin, cause he think that by and by the trees be a-fallen. Brer rabbit was dar, and when the frog move, he chop his tail off, smacks smooth. The frog fetch a beller and make for the river. He left his tail and the umbrella kiver. He left them dar right on the ground, and the tail it wiggled till the sun went down.

end of why the frog has no tail section ten of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle remus by joel chanler harris this labor box recording is in the public domain recording by phil uncle rimas captures a dream out dar in the dark when folks is asleep dee's things gwine on dat'll make you creep dee dee dee's a crowd o somethin out dar at play from the middle o the night sprang on twill day and the mortal stillness that falls on all is the noise they make when they cry and call it's over and under and round again they flits with the shatters and flies with the wind and dreams long dreamt slip out o the swamp and make the plans for a mighty romp and doors fly open without a squeak when they start to play at hide and seek and they ride the ponies wing and breeze out over the fields and through the trees it's over and under and round again they flits with the shatters and flies with the wind the frocks is made of the new moonshine carted and rolled and spun mighty fine they spins em de self and trims em all with the trailing fog that you see in the fall and the time for the catch the dreams and things is when they are swinging in spider-web swings it's over and under and round again they flits with the shadows and flies with the wind and if you're old and not too fat i expect you can catch em unneat your hat the fuss on our coach i was past my prime but i've catched em more and many's de time and when you catch em they're yawin for good

cause they can't get away and they wouldn't if they could it's over and under and round again they flits with the shatters and flies with the wind you'll ha to be old and naturally tough cause the sight still show you be more than enough, and you better be asleep if you catch a dream, because if you ain't, it'll make things seem like they did to the man what fell from the tree, he struck a limb, and he say, he, I believe my soul could bliminy blum, that the whole wide world done got out of plumb. The last dream I caught you eye healthy to my ear, and I wish I could tell you all what I hear. it was oh hold me tight oh hold me fast i'm de breath what you see on the looking-glass i'm the silver bugle i'm the wedding-bell i'm dim what stumbled and dim what fell i'm the old home spring i'm the arched path i'm the big black log i'm the kitchen half i'm the chap you toaded when you were strong i'm the song you sung him all night long i'm the old red road and the trian hill i'm the creek and the pond and the old gristmill

i'm the spinning wheel and the bangin loom the long wide hall and the upstairs room i'm the mistress and mauster and the buckraman i'm kiddle and trivet i'm skillet and pan i'm dem what go an dem what come i'm dem what march o the beat o the drum i'm dem what dance by the light o moon i'm de dance itself and i'm de tune i'm dem what song de midnight song i'm de way de they went when they went along i'm de fluttering hands like they ringing the bell i'm de so long honys an de fay you well i'm dem what fiddled twill de brink a day i'm de t'-tarch they dropped when they went away i'm dem what rambled and dem what run dem what frolic'd and had de fun i'm dem what ploughed and hold the corn i'm de plough and the hoe and the dinner-horn i'm dem what looked with the sea an eye i'm de bended hair and the long good-bye any warm night if you set right still you can hear me calling from over the hill and over the meadows and down the dream you can hear me whisper o what i seen and the willis whiskers they'll join in and tell where i'm guan and where i've been and it's over and under and round again i flits with the shadows and flies with the wind end of uncle remus captures a dream section eleven of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle remus by joel chanler harris this laborvox recording is in the public domain recording by phil why the buzzard's head is bald t u turkey t u ty t u turky t u buzzard's eye you can see her sailing way up in the sky if she was to shut her wings and fall

you see for yourself that a head is ball. P. O. Peter, P. O. P. O. Pan. A head dis his ball as the palm of your hand. And a mighty good reason, but that's a tale, as the possum said to the slippery rail. Brough Rabbit in them days was monstrous gay, and he had both for home and a place for the stay if he ever get catched out night or day. He find him a pupler with two big rooms, that miss breezy keep clean with a brand new brooms and he grabbed the place where he can hide and sleep with both eyes open wide he lick his chops and he wash his face with abald de places dishears de place

now he been a guin there for some little time an twas all so quiet that he liked it prime and he feel like singin a old-time hymn but one day while he's parootin round a huntin for dat what nevius found, O Miss Buzzard comes astrattin'by, and view de holler from the corner of her eye. She been a-hunting a place for her nests, and of all the places she liked this the best. She grinned a grin, and she cluck to-cluck, with laws of messy what-luck what-luck,

and she laughed till her top-nots chuck, then she went with a swish and a flop, with a spright'lin walk and a hippity hop she took to the east she took to the west and with levin lil splinters she built her nest a handful of trash and a bunch of fuzz she whirled round twice and dar she was by an bye brough rabbit come a loping in ee's smooth as silk and slicker'd in sin a char in his tobacco with a chuckle and a grin twas dark as fluchins and yet twasn long for Bur Rabbit know that something was wrong. "'Twas somebody been here, and I ain't glad, "'cause whoever twas, they breath mighty bad.' "'Miss Buzzard, she kind of squirm on her nest,

"'cause she got the ID. "'She's good as the best. "'Brough Rabbit, he slapped his foot on the floor, "'with, I don't know who twas, "'but what I does know is he better hunt the doctor, "'where some ever he'd go. "'Oh, thank you, Browabbit. says Miss Buzzard, says she.

The way you make friends show astonishes me. If you don't watch out, you lose your meat. Not whilst I can wiggle all in my feet, says old Brut Rabbit, and then he wheeze. I bet you a thrip I'm going to sneeze. He tried to hold in,

but he snows and he snows, and he work his yaw and he wiggle his nose, which this gets wussar da furter it goes. well time loped on and when her eggs hatch miss buzzard she show had the grub and scratch as the saying is but the grubbing she done was the kind o grubbing that wasn't much fun and her chilling was greedy to hear the cries you'd a thunk they were starving right foe your eyes miss buzzard mudged em up and talked mighty sweet and promised em a dinner a right fresh meat brer rabbit he chuckled he's good as wheat but the giant an halla will does fit me and i'll set in dar where i can see and he sot so still you'd a thunk he was asleep and he fool miss buzzard when she come to peep so she stop up to holler with mud and sticks but o brer rabbit knowed all her tricks she named his name but he lay back in snow and do like he ain't gwine to wake no mo and then she say you're my meat show brer rabbit he low oh please em let me out you say you won't well i think you m'art in mibberts o old times well as de nu if you won't you won't so it's good-bye to you and then he went slip

out of his bat do, and he left Miss Busset a-walking at the flow. When Brough Rabbit runs, he show is a flyer, and he put out to where Mr. Man had a fire for to burn off the new ground brush and briar, and he got him a pan and red-hot embers, the sort what warms you in the cold december's, and then he run home as hard as he can, with, oh, Miss Busset, please, mm, let me in. she flew right at him with wing and claw and he plunked the embers on her jaw and on her neck and on her head and in her house and on her bed and they scorched her so dat her eyes got red and she flung a flutter and she fetched the squall lor's a messy brad rabbit you burning me ball and from that day till this both fur and wide where the busses had top knots it's mostly hide End of Why the Buzzard's Head is Bald.

Section 12 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Libre-Box recording is in the public domain, recording by Phil Schenever. Doe standbys. Watermillan's fresh from divine. Anybody will say death fine. And rabbit in hash is nice, stirred up with a handful of rice. and down in this neighborhood de saba possum is good and then d'ar's the big pole beans and old-time collard greens with leaf-blue stemmed and wide you can have em boiled or fried and turnips purple and white i wish i had some this night yet millins possums rabbits they has their ways and habits and the seasons one and all summer and winter and fall and likewise collard greens

and turnips and pole beans and some come twice a year and some of these last don't care if they come or not that's why folks watch for the clouds in the sky but they are all good enough in their place for to make a sinner say grace but then there's the long-come shorts when you have to put up with all sorts then gimme the corn-bread pon and please em make it full grown and a dish full o whippoorwill peas biled up with plenty of grease and buttermilk fresh from the churn er sour enough to burn and tingle on yo tongue an creep twill it tastes like y'all foots asleep the old stands by is here there with us all the year you don't have to wait or hunt they're right at hand every month there wit you rain a draught if the wind blow north or south shucks i done gone to dribble at the mouth end of the old stand-by section thirteen of the tar baby and of the rhymes of uncle remus by joel chanler harris this lebrubox recording is in the public domain recording by phil shenabher rabbit's giggling place time was when the quitters had different places for to eat day snacks and wash day faces a place for the talk and a place for tussling when some ever they happen to get true they hustling a place for smoking and a place for chawin a place for jumping and a place for jawing a place for kicking and a place for pawing a place for moaning and a place for whining a place for whining they was git long well an livin' curscrumptious and none but the camel was any ways bumptious you mutter fett em on corn-meal mushes cause they ain't find out they had claws or tushes

they never was sorry ne'er solemn colic when they laid by the crops they was in fur o frolick broufax know'd how fur to tetch up the fiddle with tumpty tum t'em and tumpty ittle and gals cross over from the side to the middle. And them what worked in the heavy timber, a dun got so that their legs ain't limba. They sought off in a clump together, and talk about craps and the rainy weather, and watch the dancers light as a fetter, and shake their heads, and do some frowning when the fiddle was just a-saying and a-sounding. As much as to say, up time will free us, and you'll soon be as now you see us. Now a dance at the best is a kinder mix-up, and old rab was scared that they had some tricks up, and whilst brough fox was a sawin on the fiddle,

Brer rabbit was a telling Brabar a riddle that made him laugh while he shake in the middle. Brabar he laughed, but old br rabbit do like he done got out of the habit. You'd have thought somebody had done hurt his feelings with the shiffle-suffle and the jiggum of reelings. where there's any giggling de crowds bound to go dar and to keep from being squished brer rabbit says woe dar and he call to brough fox wi please play some mo dar brough fox he say he bleeds to mind his fiddle an old brubar still shuck in the middle miss wolf up an ax what you find that's so funny and the answer was mr beans swallered bunny lossy me says miss wolf and she got dar grinning, brer rabbit, you show does need a skinning. Brough Fox, he say, Just stop yo chaffin.

You see for yourself, bro rabbit, ain't a laughing. If trouble was to come, he looked like he'd nab it. Right you is, brough fox, says old brer rabbit. And more'n that, I'd reach out and grab it, cause I never did believe in company's sniggling, and I done got a place where I does my giggling. And they all of them asked him, whereabouts is it dis show's ter way and we'll pay it a visit brer rabbit makes out he had money and lossum and he hope brough fox for to find his rosam hummin yam spells taylor and taylor spells possum

and then twasn't long afore the dance it broke up brough fox stayed behind and at a while spoke up and asked bra rabbit where is giggling place it ain't so mighty fur from the wiggling place and and you showly is here tell'a dat, sir, "'cause once dire, you giggled till you lose your hat, sir.' "'And you may lose your hide. I see'd such cases, where them what is queer, got lost in queer places, but this kind of talk was worse than no talk, if he knowed he'd get sculloped by a knock-need mohawk. Brough Vox woulda went.

There was no need for Motoc. So, brough rabbit, say he'd be glad for to take him, cause he too polite for the up and shake him and brough fox went with a gallop and a wiggle for to see the place where bray rabbit giggle after so long they got dar and brer rabbit showed it and brough fox low that he never woulda knowed it old rab a small a smile and then he told him how de giggle an giggle twill a h'n't hold em twas t'n as you see it but the way you do it dat big bush yonder you must run right through it if it had been a trap brough fox would a flu it but he run through the bush and then he hollered he yapped and he whacked and then he wallered and the reason was plain why he made such a racket he had run right over mr yaller jacket and the bush was the home o the ball-headed hornet brough fox he yalloped right straight on it he run through gullies and he jumped over ditches cause he had ten dozen in his breeches bruh rabbit heard somethin bout dang dong dig em and he loped off home cause he scared tete stingin end of brer rabbit's giggling place section fourteen of the tar baby and other rhymes of okoremus by joel chanler harris this lear-box recording is in the public domain recording by phil shinnabair mr rabbit run fur mr rabbit run fast cause dee cause dee schooze tima given de gals

some sass. With the fingers in the ears they stomped their feet, with, "'Just listen at that, is you ever hear the beat? Yet all in the world that brer rabbit say was, howdy my honeys? Whitchin' away, which'em away. You're getting too old for to be so gay. I believe in my soul you're turning gray. Mr. Owl he seed a big star shoot, and he blow his horn with a toot, toot. mr fox come along with a hand to his ear and the gals de holler brough fox run here mr fox he grin and show his tush please come and make bruh rabbit hush we wasn't doin nothin on the grass and here he come with his mouthful o's ass mr owl he see the near star shoot and he make his horn go toot to toot mr fox scratch hisself behind the ear with a tut tut tut what's dis i hear and the gals they say you here an then mr fox with a whiff waf woof woof try to swaller br rabbit but he swallowed the air he snapped he did but he snipped he did but he

he never touched the hair and a mighty good reason brer rabbit wasn't dar one star two star three star shoot and old mr owl blow to to to to mr rabbit from behind the mullin stock holler ladies all i'm gwine to take a walk i was makin fun but i'm sorry i spoke for all i say was nothin but a joke labra rabbit and why don't you tell us cause we likes you better than the yudder fellas mr rabbit he laugh and wiggle his smellers and the horse apple falls long for it mellers two stars tree stars four star shoot Mr. All he laughed and toot-to-to-toot-to. Mr. Rabbit, he said, You're in your prime. I told you that, but you ain't give me time. Miss Meadows, she say,

Don't lose your chance. Let's go to my house and we'll all have a dance. Mr. Rabbit, he laughed and shake his head. What more can you say when all is said? I'm the one that's gray, brough fox, is red. I can be my own friend when all is fled. I'm going for her to get some calamus root, and listen to the Whippoorwill are playing on his flute. Mr. Whippoorwill, he won't stay still. Mr. Whippoorwill are playing on his flute.

End of Mr. Rabbit Run Fur. Mr. Rabbit Run Fast. Section 15 of the Tor Baby and other rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Chenevere. Baylor's mail. Run, little brothers, run. Yo journey's just begun, and many along mile stretches

from setting to rise and sun. And it's whack if the patroller catches, and it's whoop when your journey's done. It's fun for the one that fetches, for the one that carries none. Oh, run into bushes, brothers. Down the long corn-furs, run. Run in the heat what smothers,

In the frost what grips you munn. It's way o for the hills what beckon, Way o for the low grounds wide. You're moving now, I reckon, When you rock from side to side. Run, little brothers, run, Twixt setting and rising sun. Watch out for them what fowler

With track dogs and with gun. Break through the swampy holler, Your journey will soon be done. past the place where the wild hogs waller, the race is mighty now one. And it's out where the hills is rolling, Where the road and the runner is won. The time has come for poling. Run, little brothers, run.

Across the fur-line stretches what hold the breath of the sun. It's meat for the man what fetches, for the man what carries, none. Run, little brothers, run. time passes mildly man no time for a cabin tattle when the way and the wisher is won no time for the count the cattle to see if they brindle are done does make the bushes rattle when you break from trot to run no dodge into water what splashes it's part of the frolic and fun when you skip to the sloughs and slashes run little brothers run and the milky way is shifting to where it can see the sun and the night is shoally lifting run little brothers run the east is showing yellow and the stars go one by one but the hills will take yo hello when the morning streamers is spun and make it saff and mellow run little brothers run time it gets to the other fellow and then your

journey is done end of balers mail section sixteen of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle remus by joel chanler harris this labor vogue's recording is in the public domain recording by phil shennaver revival hymn oh whar shall we go when that great day comes with the blowin o the trumpets and the banging of the drums how many poe-sennels will be catched out late and find no latch to the golden gate no use for it to wait twill to-morrow the sun mustn't set on yo sarre sends is sharp as a bamboo briar o lord fetch the moan is up higher when the noshes of the earth is a standing all around who's goin to be chosen for the war the glory crown who's a-goin for it to stand stiff-need and bowl and answer to the name at the callin of the roll you better come now if you comin o satan is loose and abumming. The wheels of distraction is a humming. Oh, come along, sinner, if you coming. The song of salvation is a mighty sweet song, and the paradise wind blow fur and blow strong, and Abraham's bosom hits soft and hits wide, and right dars the place

where the sinners ought to hide. Oh, you needn't be a stopping and a-looking. If you fool with old Satan, you'll get tookin. You hang on the age and get shookin, if you keep on a-stopping and a-looking. The time is right now, and this year's the place. Let the sun of salvation shine square in your face. Fight the battles of the Lord, fight soon and fight late, and you always find a latch to the golden gate.

No use for to wait twill tomorrow. The sun must insert on your sorrow. Sins is sharp as a bamboo bry, Ask the Lord for to fetch you up higher. End of Revival Hymn. Section 17 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Phil Schenever.

Camp Meeting Song Oh, the world's is round and the world's is wide. Lord, Membid de's chilling in demand. morning. It's a mighty long ways up the mountainside, and there ain't no place for them sinners for to hide, and there ain't no place where sin can abide, when the Lord shall come in the morning. Look up and look around, fling your burden on the ground. It's a getting mighty close on to morning. Smooth away, sense frown, rich up and get the crown what the Lord will fetch in the morning. The hand of redemption hits hell.

out to you, Lord, remember them sinners in the morning. It's a mighty patient hand, but the days is but few, when Satan he'll come at demanding of his do, and the stiff-necked sinners will be smootting all through. Oh, you better get ready for the morning. Look up and set your face, towards the green hills of grace, for the sun rises up in the morning. Oh, you better change your base, hit your soul's last race, for the glory that's a coming in the morning. The farmer gets ready when the land's all plowed, for to sow them seeds in the morning. The spirit may be puny and the flesh may be proud, but you better cut loose from the scoffing crowd, and gine these Christians what's a crying out loud, for the Lord

for to come in the morning. Shout loud and shout long, let the echoes answer strong, when the sun rises up in the morning. Oh, you allahs will be wrong twill you choose to belong to de master what's a common in the morning end of camp meeting song section eighteen of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle remus by joel chanler harris this labor box recording is in the public domain recording by phil shennaver corn-shocking song oh the first news you know de day you be a break in hey oh hi yo up and down the bingo and the fire'll be a burning and the ash cake of bacon hey oh hi oh up and down the bingo and the hen'll be hollering and the boss will be awaking hey oh up and down the bingo better get up nigger and give yourself a shaking hi oh miss cindy ann oh honey when you see them ripe stars are falling hey oh hi oh hi hi Oh, oh, up and down the bango. Oh, honey, when you hear the rain crow were calling, hey, oh, hi, oh, up and down the bango.

Oh, honey, when you hear that red calf a balling, hey, oh, hi, oh, up and down the bango. Then the daytimes are coming, the creeping and the crawling. Hi, oh, Miss Indiana. For the loss of the yard is hunting for the monsile. and hi oh get along go away and she catch up widest for we ever get this corn and oh go away cindy ann oh honey when you y'ye dat tin horn o tootin hey oh hi oh up and down the bango oh honey when you yeah to squinch ow le hooting hey oh hi oh up and down the bango oh honey when you year de little pigs are rooting hey oh hi oh up and down the bango right then she's a come in to skip

man o scootin hi oh miss cindie ann oh honey when you y'all dat wrong mule wicker hey oh hi oh up and down the bango when you see miss the moon turning pale and getting sicker hey oh hi oh up and down the bango then it's time for to handle that cone a little quicker. Hey, oh, hi, oh, up and down the bingo. If you want to get a smell of old monster's jugger licker. Hi, oh, Miss Cindy Ann. For the loss of land, the yard is a hunting for the morning. Hi, oh, get along. Go away. As you catch up with as for we ever get this corn in. Oh, go away, Cindy Ann. Niggers cross there, you better stop your dancing. Hey, oh, hi, oh, up and down the bango.

No use for the cum of your shancing. Hey, oh, hi, oh, up and down the bango. No use for the cum of flinging of your cants in. Hey, oh, hi, up and down the bango. Because there ain't no time for your pat or your prancing. Hi, oh, Miss Cindy Ann. Mr. Rabbit seed the fox and he sass him and jaws him. Hey, oh, hi, oh, up and down the bango.

Mr. Fox catch the rabbit and he scratch him and he claws him. Hey, oh, hi, oh, up and down the bango. And he tore off the hide and he chaws up and he gnaws him. Hey, oh, hot, oh, up and down the bango. Same like gout char and sweet gum and razzum. Hi, oh, Miss Cindy Ann For the loss in the yard is hunting for the morning Hi, oh, get along, go away

As you catch up with us for we ever get this corn in Oh, go away, Cindy and Work on boys gives the chucks of mighty ringing Hey, hi, oh, hi, oh, up and down the bingo For the boss come around, the dangling and the dangle, dingin' hey oh hi oh up and down the bango get up and move around set the big hands to swinging hey oh hi oh up and down the bango get up and shout loud let the white folks hear you singing hi oh miss indian for the loss of the yard is a huntin for the morning hi oh get along go away and she'll catch up with us for wherever get this con in a go away cindy ann end of corn-shucking song section nineteen of the tar baby and other rhymes of uncle rheimus by joel chandler harris this leberbox recording is in the public domain recording by phil

shunnerver the plough hans song jasper county eighteen sixty nigh mighty happy when he layin by con dat sun's slanting nigh mighty happy when he hear de dinner horn dat sun's a slanting and he mo happy still when de night draws on that sun's a slanting dat sun's a slanting there's a show as you born and it's rise up primus fetchin'n o'er yel that old dun cows does a shakein' upper bell and the frogs chunin'in'n'n fell for de judee i wish you mighty well mr kill d'ee i wish you mighty well mr kill dee i w'ee i w wish you mighty well i wish you mighty well the corn'll be ready against dumpling day dat sun's a slanting but nigger gotta watch an stick and stay dat sun's a slanting same as the b martin watching under jay that sun's a slanting that sun's a slanting and a slipping away then it's rise up primus and gin it to em strong de cow's goin home with the ding dang dong sling in a nong sling an another attach of the old-time song. Good night, Mr. Whippoorwill, don't stay long. Mr. Whippoor Will, don't stay long. Don't stay long.

The shadows, they are creeping, toads the top of the hill, that sun's a slanting. The long-time hill where the workers got to fill, that sun's a slanting. They some dead forgets, but we never shall, That sun's a slanting. That sun's a slanting, and slenton. down still.

Then sing it out, Primus, there's hollin'-ball, and wiles we are stripping the mules for the stall. Let the gals catch the sound of the plantation call. O far you well, ladies, my love unto you all. Ladies, my love unto you all, my love unto you all. End of the Plough Hands song. Section 20 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Liebervox recording is in the public domain, recording by Phil Schenever.

Christmas play-song. Myricks Place, Putnam County, 1858. Hi, my ringtum, black gal sweet. Same like goodies, what the white folks eat. Ho, my Riley, don't you take and tell her name, and then if something happened you won't catch the blame. Hi, my ringtum, better take and hide your plum. Joey don't holler every time you find a womb.

Then it's high my ring'em. Don't get no other man? And it's Ho, My Riley, fetch out Miss Dillsian. Ho, my Riley, yaller gal, fine. She may be yon, but she ought to be mine. High, my ringtum, let me get by, and see what you mean by the cut of that eye. Ho, my Riley, better shut that dough.

The white folks will believe we are tearing up the float. Then its whole My Riley come a shifting up to me, And it's high, my ring'em, dis'way to twist your knee. Hi, my ring'em, ain't the east getting red? The squinch I'll shiver like he want her go to bed. Ho, my Riley, but the gals and the boys, they's now getting so they can sort of make a noise. High, my ringtum, let the y'all a gal alone.

Niggers don't hank her after a sortie in the pon. Then it's high, my ringtum, better try another plan, and it's, ho, my riley, trot out, Miss Dill. o' my riley in the happy christmas time the niggers shake their clothes a-hunting fur a dime high my ring'em and then they shake their feet and grease their selves with the good ham meat ho my riley they eat and they cram and by and by old miss'll be ascending out the dram then it's ho my riley you hear that sam and it's high my wringham be ascending out the dram Play Song Section 21 of the Tor Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. Recording by Phil Schenever. Plantation Play Song, Putnam County, 1856. It's a getting mighty late when the Gwynny Henskwall, and you better dance now if you gwine to dance at all. For by this time tomorrow night you can't

heartily crawl, cause you'll have to take the hole again, and likewise them all. Don't you hear that bake-hole to kicking in his stall? Stop your humping up your shoulders, that'll never do. Hoplight ladies, oh, Miss Lou. It takes a heap of scroogeing for it to get you through. Hoplight, ladies, oh, Miss Lou. And if you niggers don't watch, you'll sing another tune, for the sun will rise and catch you if you don't be mighty soon.

and the stars is getting paler, and the old gray coon is a settin'in'n'n the grave-fin' watching for the moon. When a fellow comes a-knock'n, days holler, oh, shoo! Hop-light ladies, oh, Miss Lou. Oh, swing that yaller gal, do boys do. Hop-light ladies, oh, Miss Lou. Oh, turn me loose, lemme alone, go away now. What you expect I come a-dancing-fur, if I don't know how? These the very kinds of footsies what kicks up a row.

Can't you jump into the middle and make your gal a boat? Look at that mulatterman a following-up suit. Hop-light ladies, oh, Miss Lou. The boys ain't a-guine when you cry boo-hoo. Hop-lite ladies, oh, Miss Lou. End of Plantation Play Song. Section 22 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus. This is a Libra Box recording.

librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox dot org recording by phil shenever a plantation chant it's eighteen hundred forty and four christ done opened that heavenly dough and i don't want to stay ere no longer it's eighteen hundred forty and five christ done made that dead man alive and i don't want to stay here no longer it's eighteen hundred forty and five christ done made that dead man alive and i don't want to to stay year no longer. You asked me to run home little chilling, run home dat sun done row, and I don't want to stay here no longer. It's eighteen hundred forty and six. Christ has got us a place done fixed, and I don't want to stay year no longer. It's eighteen hundred forty and seven, christ un sought a table in heaven and i don't want to stay yer no longer you ask me to run home little chilling run home dat sun don roho and i don't want to stay year no longer it's eighteen hundred forty and eight christ unmade that crooked way straight and i don't want to stay yer no longer it's eighteen hundred forty and nine christ untone dat water into wine and i don't want to stay yer no longer you ask me to run home little chillin run home dad sun don't roll and i don't want to stay ye no longer you ask me to run home little chillin run home dad sun don't roll and i don't want to stay

year no longer it's eighteen hundred forty and ten Christ is the mona's onlyest friend and I don't want to stay you no longer it's eighteen hundred forty and eleven Christ'll be at the door when we all get to heaven and I don't want to stay year no longer you ask me to run home little chilling run home dad's son don't and I don't want to stay you no longer. End of a plantation chant. Section 23 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Libre-Vox recording is in the public domain.

Recording by Phil Schenever. A Plantation Serenade The Old Bee makes de Honeycomb, the young bee makes de honey. The niggers make the cotton and corn, and the white folks gets the money. The raccoon he's a curse, man. He never walked twill dark. And nothing never stirs his mind twill he hear old bringer bark. The raccoon tot's a bushy tail.

The possum totes no har. Mr. Rabbit, he comes skipping my, he ain't got none to spar. Monday morning, breaker day, white folks got me good. guan but sadly night when the sun goes down dat yalla gals is mine fifteen pounds o me the week whisky fer the cell oh how can a young man stay at home dem gals they look so well met a possum in the road brer possum where you guin i thank my stars i bless my life i'm a hunting for the muskodine End of a plantation serenade. Section 24. Of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Phil Schenever. The Big Bethel Church. The Big Bethel Church, the Big Bethel Church, done put old Satan behind them. If a sinner get loose from any other church, the big Bethel Church will find them. It's good to be there, and it's sweet to be there, With the sisterin' all around you, A shaking them shackles of muslin'-love, Wherewith the Lord has bound you. It's sweet to be there, And listen to the hymns, And hear them moaners are shouting,

They done reach the place where there ain't no room, For any more weeping and doubting. It's good to be there when the sinners all gine, With the brotherin' in there singing, And it looked like Gabriel going to rack up and blow. and set them heavenly bells to ringing. Oh, the big Bethel Church, the Big Bethel Church, done put old Satan behind them. If a sinner get loose from any other church, the Big Bethel Church will find them.

End of The Big Bethel Church. Section 25 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Phil Schenever. time goes by turns. There's a powerful rassal twixt the good and the bad, and the bads got all the under-holt,

and when the wuss comes she come on clad, and you had to hold your breath for the jolt. But toads alas, Good gets the knee-lock, And they draps to the ground could flop. Good has the in turn, and he stand like a rock, And he blisoned for the bee on top. The dry weather breaks with a thunder-clap, For there ain't no drought what can last, But the seasons what whips up the cotton crap, Likewise they freshenes up the grass.

The rain falls so soft in the long dark night, Well you had to hold your hand for a sign, But the drizzle what's set the tater slips right is the making of the May Pop Vine. In the mellerous ground, the clay rudel catch, and the clay rudel catch, And hold to the tongue of the plough, and a pine-pole gait at the garden patch never will keep out the old brindle cow. One and all on us knows whose a-pullin at the bits, like the lead mule that guides by the rain, and yet somehow or other the bestest of us gets mighty sick at the tugging at

the chain. Hump yourself to the load and forget the distress, and them what stands by to scoff, for the The harder the pulling, the longer de rest, and the bigger to feed in the trough. End of Time Goes By Turns. Section 26 of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Harris. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain, recording by Phil Schenever. A Howdy Song, Prelude. If I could coax that baby for to get upon my knee, I'd up and sing my howdy song.

I'd sing it loud and free. I'm getting old and poli, but I ain't forget the song, because I used to shake the rafters when the nights was getting long. He'd do a sight of laughing, and then he'd kinder smile, but for you count of twenty, he'd be sleeping by the mile. I know I used to sing it to one little boy I knowed, and I seemed to see him coming when I look way down the road. I'd take him, and I'd rock him,

till his eyelids settle down, and he'd soon be gwine off yonder, on the stage to sleepy town, and the dreams would be of blowing through his little curly head, and he'd try to pull at the kiver, just like he'd gone to bed. The song. It's howdy, honey, when you laugh, and howdy when you cry, and all day long it's howdy, I never shall say goodbye. I'm monstrous purt myself, sir, and hoping the same for you. you and when I catch my breath sir I'll ask you how to do it's howdy honey when you sleep

it's howdy when you cry keep up keep up to howdying don't never say goodbye I'm milling well myself sir which to say my hope for you if you let me catch my breath sir I'll ask you how to do so long I'm one of the wildest dreamers that ever looked up at the blue I dream twill I has the tremors, and if some of these dreams come true, you can pin on your Uncle Remus, it'll be mighty nice for you. I'm one of the worst old schemers that yabby is patchy's shoe, and if seaman is sold to the seamers, I'll hunt you howdy-do. End of a howdy song.

End of the Tar Baby and Other Rhymes of Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris.