d I had traced out, not the poem alone, but
the poet. I implored him to proceed.

"Once we boys," he said, "went for tote some rice and de nigger-driver
he keep a-callin' on us; and I say, 'O, de ole nigger-driver!' Den
anudder said, 'Fust ting my mammy tole me was, notin' so bad as
nigger-driver.' Den I made a sing, just puttin' a word, and den anudder
word."

Then he began singing, and the men, after listening a moment, joined in
the chorus, as if it were an old acquaintance, though they evidently
had never heard it before. I saw how easily a new "sing" took root among
them.

XXXVI. THE DRIVER.

"O, de ole nigger-driver!
O, gwine away!
Fust ting my mammy tell me,
O, gwine away!
Tell me 'bout de nigger-driver,
O, gwine away!
Nigger-driver second devil,
O, gwine away!
Best ting for do he driver,
O, gwine away!
Knock he down and spoil he labor,
O, gwine away!"

It will be observed that, although this song is quite secular in its
character, yet its author called it a "spiritual." I heard but two songs
among them, at any time, to which they would not, perhaps, have
given this generic name. One of these consisted simply in the endless
repetition--after the manner of certain college songs--of the mysterious
line,--

"Rain fall and wet Becky Lawton."

But who Becky Lawton was, and why she should or should not be wet, and
whether the dryness was a reward or a penalty, none could say. I got
the impression that, in either case, the event was posthumous, and
that there was some tradition of grass not growing over the grave of a
sinner; but even this was vague, and all else vaguer.

The other song I heard but once, on a morning when a squad of men came
in from picket duty, and chanted it in the most rousing way. It had been
a stormy and comfortless night, and the picket station was very exposed.
It still rained in the morning when I strolled to the edge of the camp,
looking out for the men, and wondering how they had stood it. Presently
they came striding along the road, at a great pace, with their shining
rubber blankets worn as cloaks around them, the rain streaming from
these and from their equally shining faces, which were almost all upon
the broad grin, as they pealed out this remarkable ditty:--

HANGMAN JOHNNY.

"O, dey call me Hangman Johnny!
O, ho! O, ho!
But I never hang nobody,
O, hang, boys, hang!
O dey, call me Hangman Johnny!
O, ho! O, ho