Nancy Nix interview with Flora Buffington, Ruby Brown, and Mildred Wofford (part one)

The John Burrison Georgia Folklore Archive recordings contains unedited versions of all interviews. Some material may contain descriptions of violence, offensive language, or negative stereotypes reflecting the culture or language of a particular period or place. There are instances of racist language and description, particularly in regards to African Americans. These items are presented as part of the historical record. This project is a repository for the stories, accounts, and memories of those who chose to share their experiences for educational purposes. The viewpoints expressed in this project do not necessarily represent the viewpoints of the Atlanta History Center or any of its officers, agents, employees, or volunteers. The Atlanta History Center makes no warranty as to the accuracy or completeness of any information contained in the interviews and expressly disclaims any liability therefore. If you believe you are the copyright holder of any of the content published in this collection and do not want it publicly available, please contact the Kenan Research Center at the Atlanta History Center at 404-814-4040 or reference@atlantahistorycenter.com. This is the first of a two part recording; it starts with Mildred Wofford reciting a poem she wrote called Memories of South Toe River Valley. Next she sings a series of folk ballads and hymns, some of which she also plays on the autoharp. She starts with Rosewood Casket, then at 5:04 Wildwood Flower, Barbara Allen, Redwing (which is about a Native American woman), and The Blind Girl. At 14:45 Wofford explains the history of The Death of Floyd Collins before she sings it. Next she sings Black Jack Davy and A Roven Gambler, and then two songs with similar lyrics, The Lexington Murder and The Knoxville Girl. Songs include themes of death and murder, romance and love, and God and religion. The tone of the songs vary from serious to lighthearted and humorous. Mildred Wofford (1904-?) was born in Yancy County, North Carolina. Additional biographical information has not been determined. Flora Stribbling Harber (1907-1981) was born in Dainielsville, Georgia. In 1933 she married Joseph Buffington (1906-1996) and they lived in Lithonia, Georgia, and had one daughter, Charlotte (1929-2008) and one son, Joseph (1945- ). She attended two years of college, worked as a stenographer, and lived in Cuba during World War II where she studied language and culture. Ruby White (1898-1980) was born in Long Prairie, Missouri, to Fountain Pitts (1863-1950) and Carry (1877-1941) White. During World War I, she performed dramatic readings and songs on the Chautauqua circuit and at lyceums. In 1921 she married James Brown (1893-1962) and they moved to Atlanta, Georgia, then to Lithonia, where she taught music for over 40 years. They had two children, Virginia (1923-2008) and Edward (1928-1980). 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C\\, ~ , \ 01'):::; 0 t I \00 ct Release form ( ~15}or N~ ? :;; ~"-- .~'L\Q<: S~ ~O'" <~ c:-d I, E- 'ir \<A.,,,,'hY'7' rJ \)1 (l \ .,...-~.._-, '7' ~ '" .J;-', <' Transcript ~es 0) No scanned: '-, '- From ( /~rNo Default text: Contributed by an OR: Donated by individual: - individual through <your org. name> Georgia Folklore Collection through <your org. name> Object Information Enter information about the ohvsical obiect here: Title (interviewee \'1\ d 12 , t \ ~ .~ d \/J I) -t-t \) ~d name and date of interview) Description (bio on ~{il<'(r;) 'IC. 1,\lofGll ,j : b", i\ I'{I \t'\o ' I \\\ ;',\,.I.\-\ ")Of, 'v- Nt~ wll, "I interviewee) (YO.NJ'\ (.'(l,'i '\\'\ ' 1'-\ i) 1 II Creator (Enter either an individual's Burrison Folklore Class name or an organization) Collection Name (within the Georgia Folklore Archives organization) Creation Date Exact Date (yyyy-mm-dd) (use only one) Year (if only the year is known) lot\. '1 Circa (4 digit year) Year Span From To Object Type Image_ Text - Text and image _ Video and sound - Sound only.L Media Format Reel-reel (VHS, reel to reel, etc) Recording Hours: extent . Minutes: .;L ? ~ ~<) Derivatives Access cop~r No Access copy format: ..-- ..._- Recording clip Yeso~ Clip extent: "b :~<; Time code for Beginning: 0 I') End: clip (h:m:s) Notes (interview S()\~"'::,e, ",-.3 '0'-"" ~O t) 'w"'-4_" summary) ?lO.(l.\,.,\ '. "\v\.C'.Ho'{ 'l(~a Q,( 'Sc>J\'~ \'\{JC,,~ (1'7((( V1/.\\6 ( \, . $0<'(S' , "\"F{~ O!.(,l.d,IIJl.) ()/..,-IJ,.'"\,) .'J I, ,- .. ~ "IN '\\(:\\AlthJ(\) '\ IIf) I/d l' \ ". "'r,}(H \<1.'\ c /\/1.,," I, 'V~ ,) ,,j w~' ,. "v}\1'f'1l, ('-" \' f"l\, 'hc\t'(,'x~ \.:'\,. ,,,( ~ k, /r\ Col\' I\<~" I 2 I, Recording S:;;. ~:> <'!. 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(AJ o{'-+, l) f d 3 Corporate names Geographic \0'" 'IC, , YC1\I<E!.y locations S Ovd h. \Y~'I' Topics 'jA'CH}:> ~A.,./~ \ L.. 4 I,i 3:;//0 AU ?t..;Z L"h UA~-~)- t<-~ 0- CQ.,"~lA..-<:r<j)vV-~ j-_~ L~_~~~~C,- LL~ VlY\: ,~('_ ,;c- Io-c-o~. ",A.) ,~V "'r'-~- !, 6-,,-. Cq"j) I-v~ ~~"" , V'I<:\ ct';- '''\ Af\ CUAr.q \ , '-1)0 cU,-.".~ C~.-L. ~\ p\ ~QA.- CJL$;)..-;J..<V /\-kx<c,'v,,-,_, /\..,x_-O>5>~,-J.- ,, ballads is genuine, and more "lOrk might explained himself patiently and put his I am afraid I never really ,ms able to h01'1 her matel'ial 1'1ould be used. lXPLANATORY NOTES On the transcript: I shall explain the presence of certain things on the transcript, specifically the poem and the autoharp playing. I asked Nrs. Hofford about life in the South 'roe River Valley, and in response, she asked if she might read a poem she had Hri tten about life as she remembered it in her mountain area. Nrs. Wofford did not learn to play the autoharp tradi tionally. HOHever, since she 1'1anted to play some pieces on the autoharp, I taped t"TO of the older ba:l1.ads. On further intervie,'Iing: Hrs. \'fofford is a "lOman of contras ts. ill though she Has glad to sing for me, the signing of the release brought a shadoH to her face and great hesitancy. She explained,:that mountain people Here reserved, and,: that, perhaps, her family m1,ght object to Hhat she ,'ms doing. She told me of past unpleasantness in the family Hhen a relative had violated Hhat some members of the family had considered their privacy, and he "had had to go to [.,'urope for seven years". 'rhe relative's name ,ms 'lbonws 1'Iol1'e. Hrs. 'Vlofford I s kno1'1ledge of be done "Ii th her if the student objectives before her clearly. explain to her in a graphic Hay COLLl~C'rrNG PHOJEC'f B'olldo re 401 l'lr. Burrison Na-ncy Kathryn Nix Spring Q.ua-rter. 1969 I JI I) . ' \ /)'. \I/I\} J " REPOR1' Mrs. l'Tofford (pronounced Hah-ford) is tall and slender, and speaks in a very 10H-pitched voice. 'lilis is one of tJ,e reasons she doesn I t like to sing, because she feels her voice is bad. 'fne day I taped her singing ballads, she had 8, cold, she explained, and Hhatever I recorded from her Has of the most inferioL' quality possible she assured me. She says she doesn't sing much any more. It isn't like Hhen she Has a young girl in the South 'foe Hivel' Valley of North Carolina llhere singing Has like breathing or talking. No, today, people play records or listen to the raciio or "latch television, and besides, so feH knoH the old ballads. Hrs. 'tIofford kn01'ls the old ballads. Some she doesn I t remember "learnin''', but just "lmoH:i.n' them". S:i.nging Has their entertainment as lIe1l as an everyday component of tJleir lives on the South 'foe Hiver. A feH people played fiddles or guitars, she recalls, but not many. People "lho played instr'uments Here uncommon. 1he church Hhere she attended had no organ or piano. H01'18Ver, there Has a littJ,e girl, five years old. Hho brou[>;ht her guitar to school every day and played during lunch. ,Tne Homen usually sang the sad, sentimental songs, like 'Ihe Orphan Girl or HoseHood Casket, but the men sang livelier, faster songs like Rovin' Gambler. 'Ihe children, listening to the gr01m-ups Hhile they "lOrked, picked up Hhatever Has sung, but developed the1-r O1'ffi favorites, and among the favorites, their O1m preference of versions. Some sang Hell; others badly. l1'veryone sang. 2 11rs. \'Iofford has forgotten some of the songs she heard often in the valleY' since her departure in 191+'1. Some are forgotten completelY'. Others are remembered onlY' in a fl'agmental lT!1Y'-ll\usic, verses, or snatches of each. f1rs. \'10 1'1'0 I'd has painstak:LnglY' Hritten ballad after ballad dovm so as not to forget the ones she does remember. 1-Irs. Vlofford HaS born i.n 1921f in the South Toe River ValleY', Hhich stretches betHeen tAle Black Hountains s.nd the mue fudge Hountains, in Yancey County', North Carolina. '!here Here no telephones, electricitY', or radios in the valleY' then. HI'S. Hofford remembers Hhen the first road Has paved through the valleY'. Since then, central heating and television ha,ve also come to the valley, and HhUe the old singing traditions have not completelY' been undermined, theY' have been altered. Hrs. Hofford has her ol'm opinions on ballad preservation and ballad singing. In a letter Hri tten to lIle, she said-- II 1he old ballads are beau tiful. I'm ,jus t sorry Y'ou couldn I t hear them sung by a mountain pel'son that had a good voice I Although I en,joy hearing them by the neH folk groups, it l'es.lly isn I t quite the same " On the day she sang for me, she became rather agitated Hhen she spoke of ,Joan Baez's corruption of ,HiIdHood I'loHer "hich she attributed to the Carter ]Is,mily' s blunderi,ng. lIer compls,int Has that the Hords sung didn I t make sense in 8. place or tMO. 1I"1's. (-Iofford saY's she is SUl'e that she does not sing the ballads as she did in the valley. Hel' I'my of speaking has altered, and also her style of singing. HOHever, Hhen I listened,,<ilo her, it seellled to me that her pl'onunciation of some HOl'ds, notably of body (by-dee), had probably Ii ttle changed. In the letter mentioned above, lilrs. \vofford continued, III told you Sundaytha t there vJere as many vel'sions of these ballads as there I/ere people because evelJ'one sang them a IitUe differently ( to suit their Oloffi taste I guess), so I knoH tHO or three Hays that mos t of t.hem can be sung. plus different Hords in individual lines. I guess I remember certain people simging them. so every time it comes out different depending on I,ho I have in mind. II lilrs. Wofford said she knew several versions of Barbara Allen. She remembers singing Barbara Allen lti th the folloldng verses inserted after what are the third and the fourth verses in the transcript. IIDeath is painted on his face And 0 I er his body s teal.ing Please hasten mray to comfort him o lovely Barbara Allen." and liDo you remember in yonder tmm (can I t remember thi.s line) You drank a toas t to the ladies all around: And. slighted Barbara Allen." Also in .Bal~bara. Allen, i'll's. lvofdi'ord remembm.'s the second li.ne of the fifth vel'se on the transcript, as often sung-- II She heard the death bell ringing ll 'lhe third and fourth lines of the eighth verse Hel'e often sung-- IISI,eet lrllHam died for me today And I shall die tomorroH. II She l'emembers Itosewood Casket sung velth the follolting verses included, as perhaps the reason for the singer's grief. 'lhese Here sung consecutively D.fter I,hat is tile thil'd verse on the trHnscript. Last :'unday I sa" him riding vIi th a lady by his side And I thought I heard him ask her If she Hould be his bride. He is coming up the Halbray, SistoI' meet him at the door, 1'el1 him that I ..Jill forgive him If he'll oourt tho, t girl no more. -/,),';'; Black Jack Davie "TaS often sung ,'Ii th '&h.. verse included after the eighth verse on tho transcript. "I Han' t come back to you again I Han' t come back, my hUB band, I Hou1dn't give a kiss from Davie's lips For all your land and money." All the ballads sung by !'Irs. \'10 1'1'0I'd are in an abbreviated form except for1l1e, ,Blind Girl and Red :\'ling Hhich she believed Here complete. Nrs. \'Iofford also mentioned having 8,t some time or other knol'm or sung: :rUB Orphan Girl, Naomi, Vlise, On ,Top of Old Smokey, The Little !'lohee, Lord Randalll Bagr;;.a,ge Coach Ahead, and Put )'IV LHUe Shoes, AHay among others. \'lhile singing, HI's. Hafford satin an erec t posi tion tapping her left foot on the floor, occasionally glancing up from her notes on the ballads, j.n her lap. 1I00-lever, Hhen she sang Hovin' Gambler, her eyes , ........... ..... ........ ,... danced and she moved her tapping foot more vigorously. She looked like a person for Hhom singing had once been an express joy. LIS'1' AND orWmt OB' NA'l,mIAL ON TAPE: "Memories of South '1'oe H:i.ver VaLley" (a poem) Hosei'lood Casket (on the autoharp) rioseliood 'casket - \,i!h'fdiioodm.o\~el; (on t.he autoharp) &trbaraAtien lied \,itne; . -. . . m:i.nd G:i.rl '1Ile.Deathof B10yd Coll:i.ns 13:lack iack' l)".v:i.e ., .... . 'Ille Rov:i.ri I GaliiSier 'Ille Lex:i.ne; t.on I'tu.rd"r 'lho Kn0Xv::i.l.1eGiA . 'l'HANSCRIP1' "1hese are some of the memories that I have of South Toe .River Valley from, uh, ",hen I ,ra.s very young about the age of four or five. It, uh, it's in a poem form and it's called "Hemories of South Toe Hiver Valley", Sling shots, stilts. dulcimers and fiddles, Cornstalk horses and 1'Ihimmy diddles, 'ylj Hours spent fishing from the S1'll)inng bridge Or riding a vragon d01'm Snake Hidge. yI Digg~g red VlOrmS to catch a "horny head", Leaves on the SourHood Trees turning red, SitUng on the front porch to rock "fel' a spell", I,j.stening to the tales the old folks could tell. Going to the pasture to milk "Old IOTaS t", Searching the mountains "hen a child Has lost. Taking milk and butter to the spring-box. to cool, \1a1king in the rain to Locus t Creek School. Picking "Poke Sa11et" and Hi1d stravl'berries, Ifaterbuckets full of juicy :ced cherries. Carrying in Hood fa l' the old cookstove, Gathering sacks of chestnuts in Buckeye Cove. Shelling ears of COl'n so the old Ha ter-Hheel On Imite Oak Creek could grind it into meal. Singing "Omie vase" and "Hose1'l00d Casket", Picking huckleberries in a birch-bark basket. Cornbread and milk for supper every night, 'fying Galax. by the dim lamp light. Kraut put to age in the big blue crock, Hours spent dreaming at Lookout Hock. Green beans and apples on the house-top to dry To make "Leather Britches" and fried apple pie. 2 Swimming in the d.ver at our favod te spot, Applebutter cooking in the old copper pot. Days c l'isp and clear.-Nights made you shiver, I'm glad I greH up on South Toe llivort the l'1ords later. (}lrs. vlofford plays.) I'll sing the 1'lords Hithout any music since my voice doesn't go extra Hell vii th the music. lhere's a little Roseuood Casket Sitting on a marble stand With a package of love letters Hri tten by my true love's hand. Go and bring them to me sister, Read them 0' er again to me, Nany times I've tried to do so But for tears I could not see. You have brought them, thank y'ou, sister, NOH si t d01'm beside my bed And lift gently to your bosom Ny poor throbbing, aching head. IVhen I'm dead and in my coffin And my friends are gathered round And my narrow grave is ready In the lonely churchyard ground Place his locket and his letters, Both together 0' er my' heart, But the Iittle ring he gave me From my finger never part. Read them over to me sis ter, Read them till I fall asleep, Irall asleep to Hake 11ith Jesus Oh, dear sister, do not Heep. NOH I'll play vI:i}:d \io,O(! F.louer on the au toharp. (brs. Wofford plays.) TIlis is Barbara Allen. ,.......... ,-.-,,- .. -"".-,--' In Scarlet 'I'<nm Hhere I Has born, 111ere Has a fair maid dHellin' l-1,~y every youth shy Hell 8.1-ray Her name Has Barbara Allen. 'fIras in the merry month of Hay, 'rhe red buds they uere sHellin' J SHeet \~illiam on his death bed by For love of Barbara Allen. He sent his servants to the to,~ vlbere Barbara '/8.S a' dl'Jellin 1 "11(y Ha.s ter I s sick and he sent for you If yoU!' name be Barbara Allen." SloHly, Sl01.fly she got up And slOi.fly she came nigh him And all she said l'Jhen she got there "Young ma,n, I think you 're dying." As she '/8.S on the highl'Jay home She heard the birds a I singin I Wi th every- note they seemed to say "Hard hearted Barbara Allen." She looked to the east, she looked to the "lest She spied the corpse a comin I "Lay do~, lay dOi~ that corpse of clay 'Ihat I may look upon it." 'ilie more she looked the more she moaned Till she fell to her knees a cryin ' Saying "pick me up and carry- me home Fo r I am nol'J a I ely'in' " "Oh F'ather, oh father, go dig my gra.ve. Go dig it long and narrOH S"TeetHilliam died of pure, pure love And I shall die of sorrO>T." Hilliam '/8.S buried in the old church yard And Barbara l'Jas buried nigh him On IVilliam 1s grave there gr81'T a red rose On Barbara I s gl'eH a. green briar. They gl'eH and they gre"T on the old church 'fall '1'111 they couldn I t groH any higher 'jl-Jen they tvrlsted and they t<,dned in a true lovers I knot ~lhe red rose around the green briar. T'nere once vms an Indian maid A shy IitUe mountain maid, elbo would sing all day a 10VG song gay As over the hills she Hould Hhilelt mmy the day, She loved a VTarl'ior bold 'i'his shy IitUe maid of old 'rill brave and gay he rode onG day '1'0 a batt~e far 8.l'1ay. 'l'onight the moon shines bright on Pretty Redlving The breeze is sighing The night bird's crying I"ar, oh far beneath the stars her brave lies sleeping vfuile Re&ving's weeping her heart away. She watched for him day and night She kept a campfire bright Under the sky each night she would lie And dream about him coming b.Y and by, But Hhen the braves returned TIle heart of Redlving yearned For far, far mray her warrior gay Had fallen in the fray. 'l'onigh t the moon shines brigh t on Pret'~r Red,rl'ng TIle breeze is sighing 1'he nightbird' s crying Far, oh far beneath the stars her brave lies sleeping \Vhile Redwing' s Neeping her heart mray. This is called the Blind qirl. They tell me fa- 'hey tell me Father that 1~night You'll Ned another bride, 1hat you ,rHl clasp her in your arms Ifuere my dear mother died, TIlat she Nill lean her grace~ll head Upon your loving breast vfuere she who no", lies dOlm in death In life I s bl'ight hOUl'S did res t. 'hey say her name is Nary' too, 'fne name my I'lother bore. Father is she kind and true As the one you loved before? And are her steps as soft and ION Her voice as sweet and mUd? Father ,rHl she love me too Your blind and helpless child? Please Father do not bid me come '1'0 meet your new-made bride. I could no t lileet her in the l'OOlil vfuere nw dear Mother died. Her pitcher's hanging on the NaIl, Her books are lying near, 'l'here's the harp her fingers touched And there's her vacant chair. The chair b.r which I used to kneel To say my evening prayer, 5 Father it almost breaks my heart I could not meet her there. And Hhen I cry myself to sleep As noH I often do Then softly to my chamber creep, ~W neH-made Mother and you. fuld bid her gently press a kiss Upon !try throbbing broH As nry o"m Mother used to do-va ther, y'ou' re Ireeping nOH. Let me kneel dOlm heI'e by yoUI' side And to OUI' SavioI' pI'ay 'rna t God's I'ight hand may lead you both 'IhI'Ough life 1s long 1'16aI'Y Hay. 'Ihe pI'ayeI' Has offered then a song "1 'm I'!eary nOl'!," she said. Her father I'aised heI' in his aI'll1S And laid heI' on the bed. "You knoH I love you father dear, l3u t hOI'! I long to go \Vhere God is ligh t and all is bright, '!'heI'e'll be no blind ones there." As he tUI'ned to leave the room One ,joyful cry Has given. He turned and caugh t the las t SHeet smile, His blind child Has in heaven. 'rhey buried heI' by her motheI' I s side With a stone of maI'ble fair. On it engI'aved these simple Hords "'!'heI'e'll be no blind ones theI'e". Tnis ballad "ras Hritten about--in Kentucky, I suppose, because it's Hritten about, uh, a boy, Floyd Collins, Hho died in a cave in Kentucky. o come all you young people And listen while I tell The stoxy of Floyd Collins A lad \ore all knOl'l Hell, His face "ms fair and handsome His heal't Has true and brave, His bydee nOH lies sleeping In a lonely sandstone cave. HOH sad, hOH sad the story-It fills OUI' eyes Hi th tears. The memory Hill linger )fo l' many, many yem.'s. A broken-heaI'ted father, ~10 tI'ied his boy to save 6 Will now weep tears of sorrow At the door of IQoyd's cave. '.the rescue part,y labored, It worked both night and day '1'0 move the migh t;y barrier ']hat stood ,[1 thin the way To rescue Floyd Collins 'fnat was their' battle cry, "Vle'll never, no >re'll never Le t ]iloyd Collins di e I" Bu t on that fateful morning The sun rose in the sky 'Ino Harkers s till were busy, "\110 'II save him by and by I" Bu t oh, how sad the ending His life they could not save, His bydee nOl, is sleeping In the lonely sandstone cave. Black Jack Davie cmue riding through the woods S ' . I ,lnglnn so mel'ry That the green hills all around him rang And he oharmed t.lle heart of a lady. "Won't you pull off those high-heeled shoes All made of Spanish leather, lvon't you put on some lOH-heeled shoes And "e'll ride off together." She soon pulled off her satin and lace, Her shoes of Spanish leather, She then put on some lo,,-heeled shoes And they rode off together. '1\18.s late at night when her husband came Inquiring for his lad,y He HaS posted b,y a fair young maid "She's gone 1,r.!th Black Jack Davie". Go saddle me "IY blac--noble mare Go saddl e me IllY derby. I'll ride to the east, I'll ride to the Hest ']'i11 I overtake my lady. "HOH can you leave your house and land? mm . cun you leave your baby'! Hal" cun you leave your husband dear, 1'0 go l'r.! th Black Jack Davie?" "Very ,rell can I leave my house and la.ncl 7 Very Hell can I leave IllY baby Huch better can I leave IllY husband dear For love of Black Jack Davie. Last night I slept on a feather bed Wi th n,y arms around my baby Tonight I'll sleep in the open fields In the arms of Black Jack Davie. II She soon ran through her clo thing gay Her velvet shoes and stockin~s 'ilie gold ring off her finger Has gone And the gold plate off her bosom. "Oh, once I had a house and land A feather bed and muney But nOli I've come to an old stral'l pad Hith nothing but Jllack Jack Davie." 'I'his is called'Ih.<:..Il~v:in.'. C;al~1:l1,e,r., and I used to hear n,y daddy and a lot of th.e. men sing this often. I'm a rovin' gambler I've gambled all around Whenever I meet In th a deck of cards I lay m,y money dOlm. I've gambled dOl'm in Washington, I've gmabled dOlm in Spain, I'm goin' dOim to Georgia 'Ib gamble my las t game. I haddent been in \'lashington l1any more I,reeks than three 'rill I fell in love Ilith a pretty IiUl' girl And she fell in love i;ith me. She took me in her parlor She cooled me I.,-ith her fan And she Hhispered low in her mother's ear III love that' gmublin I man II. "0 daughter, dear daughter, j</hy do you treat me so'l 1'0 leave your deal' old mother And I,,-j,th a galubler go'lll 1I0h 110 thel' , dear 110ther, You knoH I love you well, But the love I have for this gamblin' man No human tongue can tell. 8 Oh Mother dear Mother, I'll tell you if I can If you ever see me agaj,n I'll be Hi th uh ga,mbling man." This is about the Lexington ~lurder. Hy tender parents brought me up Provided for me Hell, And in the city of Lexington 'Ihey put me in a mill. "I'vras there I spied a fair young miss On Hhom I cast my eye I asked her if she'd marry me And she believed a lie. Last Saturday night three Heeks ago That Hould have been the day '1'he devil put it into my head '1'0 take her life ":"ray. I 1vent into her sister I shouse Eleven o'clock at night But very little did she knOlv I meant to take her life. I asked her kindly to take a "mlk A little piece aHay That He migh t have a ,joyful talk About our l'redding day. 'lie l-rent d01'm tOHard the river bank, A dark and lonely place. I took a stick from off the fence And struck her in the face. She fell upon her bended knee And loud for mercy cried, "1"01' heaven I s sake don I t murder me I 'm not prepared to die." I took her by her coal black hair To cover up my sin I dragged her to the river bank And there I thre1'r her in. I 1'rent back home to go to bed Expecting to take my rest, It seemed to me the fires of hell \'lere burning in my breas t. All young men this Harning take And to your love be true, 9 Don I t ever let the devil get The upper hand of you. 'J'his isJhEl, lCl'l()xyill", girl. It's, uh, thuh similar murder. The tune is the same and the verses are very similar. T'here was a girl in Knoxville Someone we all knew well. Every Sunday evening Out in her home I dvroll. He went to take an evenin' walk About two miles from to,m, I took a limb from off a tree And knocked her to the ground. She fell dOlin on herbended knee For mercy she did cry "Oh, Willie dear, don't kill me here I'm not prepared to die." I took her qy her golden curls I dragged her round and round. I threlv her in the river Flol'lin I by Knoxville t01'm. I started back to Knoxville Got there about midnight Mother she was worried I gave her such a frigh t. "Son, oh son, what have you done 'I'here's blood upon your clothes." 'Ihe answer I gave motiler Has "bleeding from the nose". I rolled and tumbled all night long \'Jhat troubles there for me 'J'he 'lames of hell around my bed Here all my eyes could see. They took me to the Knoxville Jail, ']hey locked me in a cell, My friends all tried to get me out But none could go nw bail. A PDF transcript exists for this recording. Please contact an archivist for access. Professor John Burrison founded the Atlanta Folklore Archive Project in 1967 at Georgia State University. He trained undergraduates and graduate students enrolled in his folklore curriculum to conduct oral history interviews. Students interviewed men, women, and children of various demographics in Georgia and across the southeast on crafts, storytelling, music, religion, rural life, and traditions. As archivists, we acknowledge our role as stewards of information, which places us inaposition to choose how individuals and organizations are represented and described in our archives. We are not neutral, andbias isreflected in our descriptions, whichmay not convey the racist or offensive aspects of collection materialsaccurately.Archivists make mistakes and might use poor judgment.We often re-use language used by the former owners and creators, which provides context but also includes bias and prejudices of the time it was created.Additionally,our work to use reparative languagewhereLibrary of Congress subject termsareinaccurate and obsolete isongoing. 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