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John Peel OBE, 1939 - 2004

Red Lick Records



I Need-A Plenty Grease In My Frying Pan
(roots and influences of vaudeville & rural blues: 1919-1940)
Max Haymes

Sleeve Art © Copyright 2012 aitkendesign@mac.com All Rights Reserved.
Cover Images: Left: Susie, Right: Butterbeans

CD D - You Was A Good Old Gobbler, But You Lost Your Strut

In 1938, an excellent string band, for that is what it was, came together in the recording studio to lay down just six titles for the Bluebird label.  The 2 accompanists loomed large on the stage of rural and urban blues.  They were Sonny Boy (John Lee) Williamson on harmonica and Yank Rachell playing mandolin.  Of course, the catalogues are sprinkled fairly liberally with recordings in their own right as well as being listed as support for other blues artists.  But the singer on this session, sometimes known as ‘Jackson’ Joe Williams, stepped into the limelight ever so briefly. [Footnote 22: The 2 sides on Vocalion 1457 from 1929, listed under this Joe Williams’ name by B.& G.R. (p.1040); are in fact by Kansas Joe McCoy with Jed Davenport on blues harp.]  

A competent guitarist, Williams was also from Tennessee as were his accompanists.  He was also a friend of his much more famous namesake Big/Poor Joe Williams (of ‘Baby Please Don’t Go’ fame) and appeared to be part of the coterie from the region in an around Jackson, Tennessee, in the 1930s.  Jackson Joe’s finest moments are his take on a previous Blind Lemon Jefferson number about a ‘peach orchard mama’, and his driving adaptation of ‘Sloppy Drunk Blues’ originating from Lucille Bogan; and covered by subsequent artists such as Leroy Carr and Sonny Boy himself.  Calling his version Haven’t Seen No Whiskey [Bluebird BB B7719] Joe and the boys propel this along at a fair old lick and includes a fine mandolin solo.  Williams includes a variant of the verse first recorded by Ida Cox back in 1924. [Footnote 23: Although Paul Oliver has written  this verse  “had been in  text collections long before Ida Cox”  (127) made her  recording.]

  Now, I went upstairs, [to] pack my leaving trunk;
Says, I ain’t seen no whiskey, blues done me made me drunk.
Lord, I ain’t seen no whiskey, blues done made me drunk.
I ain’t seen no whiskey but the blues done made me drunk.

Now, some says beans. Ain’t no beans;
Some says cheese. Ain’t no cheese.
Lord, [it’s] the slow consumption killin’ you by degrees;
Says, a slow consumption killin’ you by de……

And the trio finish this superb side letting their instruments complete the ‘interrupted’ vocal. 

Consumption was a very real threat in the South (for both blacks and whites) during slavery times and into the earlier half of the 1900s.  For the black communities even more so.  Because of mis-appropriation of funds (from the US government) by many white-controlled state legislatures.  As much as 60 % of monies earmarked for blacks was often channeled into white state treasuries.  This of course led to impoverished medical care, housing, education, and daily intake of food.  A major root cause for singing the Blues. Especially for black women who often provided the only steady if meager income in the family, the men often having to leave home looking for any jobs that whites did not want or otherwise allowed blacks to engage in. 

Even white women, as Ayers said: “… found exceedingly few opportunities to earn money in the countryside.  ‘Vic is struggling to support herself.  Mother and child and works very hard - cooks, works, irons. keeps the house clean and neat, sews and embroiders’ Lucy Mitchell wrote a friend in 1894, ‘but it tells on her thin and anxious face’.  ‘Vic’ performed virtually all the work available to an uneducated single white woman in a farming community”. (128)   But white women rarely attempted to do “all the work a farm required.  It made for more sense to sell the farm and move to town, where chances for a respectable life might be found in a shop or mill”. (129)   But for her black counterpart these options were rare if non-existent due to Jim Crow ‘laws’ in town or country in the South. Ayers noted: “A widowed, abandoned, or single rural black, woman, on the other hand, had probably been working ‘like a man’ for her adult life and might move into renting or sharecropping as a matter of course”. (130)  The latter was little more than agricultural slavery which left the share cropper in permanent debt to the white plantation owner. 

The archaic-sounding Bessie Tucker who is firmly into the earliest of rural blues roots, is nevertheless accompanied on her extant recordings by an urban or vaudeville ‘pit’ pianist (in a theatre) K.D. ‘Mr. 49’ Johnson.  Here ably assisted by Jesse Thomas (younger brother of Ramblin’ Thomas) on guitar.  Her Mean Old Master Blues [Victor 23392] seems to concern the evil peonage system so rife in the early decades of the 1900s.  In the second verse she hints at killing the ‘boss man’ to escape but resorts to a simple plea - given the powerless situation so many blacks found themselves in.

    Oh! The boss man may come here, we better not run;
Ah! The boss man may come here, we better not run.
Old Master got a pistol, may have a great big gun. [aka a 12-bore double-barrelled shotgun]

I’d rather be cut all to pieces than to be blowed down. (x 2)
Because I might get evil, I could leave this town.

Master. Oh! Master. Ahh-huhh. Please turn me a-loose. (x 2)
I ain’t got no money, I got a good excuse.

Many black women were the first of their race to move into towns and cities in the South - in great numbers - in the early 1900s.  Some of these found employment as vaudeville blues singers.  But often especially if abandoned by a man, would find themselves in a desperate situation and turned to heavy alcohol consumption.  Esther Bigeou surely spoke for many members of her sex on her Stingaree Blues (A Downhome Blues) [OKeh 8025] in 1923. [Footnote 24: The excellent 1930 recording Stingoree Man Blues by Irene Scruggs with Blind Blake accompaniment is a different song.]

  My heart is full of pain.
I feel so bad today;
My man is gone away.
He was so good to me;
Sweet Papa Stingaree.
I want ‘im back again.

Turning to a bottle of whiskey or more likely some form of bootleg liquor, she sees the fusion of the Blues and strong liquor as inexorably dragging her down.  Setting a backdrop for the late Gil Scott-Heron to immortalize in the latter decades of the 20th. Century.

  Blues in the bottle;
Blues in the bottle.
I got stoppers in my hand.
Sweet papa, papa,
Blues in the bottle;
I got stoppers in my hand.
Blues in the bottle;
Blues for my lovin’ man.
The bracketed sub-title of Ms. Bigeou’s recording could well imply the song’s roots back in the country blues.  A ’stingoree’ was a corruption of sting ray, a large relation of the shark family and its venomous sting became a popular ingredient in the Southern world of hoodoo, [Footnote 25: See Southern black informant in 1930s to Harry M.Hyatt(Bibliography). And see also the late Stephen Calt’s Barrelhouse  Words-A Blues Dialect Dictionary  for another more recent definition (p.p. 231-  232) [University of Illinois Press.Urbana & Chicago.]  2009.] and sometimes appeared in country blues recordings; such as Mojo Hidin’ Woman by Blind Boy Fuller (1937),

Southern Stingray (Dasyatis americana)

Third Street Woman Blues by Blind Joe Reynolds (1930), and Mooch Richardson’s Low Down Barrelhouse Blues - Pt.1  by Mooch Richardson ((1928). This sting “may reach a length of approximately 35 cm, [14 in.] and its underside has two grooves with venom glands.  The stinger is covered with a thin layer of skin … in which the venom is concentrated”. (134)   Partridge, interestingly includes the following entry under the heading ‘stingareeing’; in his essential book: “The sport of catching ‘Stingrays’ or ‘Stingarees’: New Zealand coll: [oquialism] 1872, Hutton& Hector, ‘The Fishes of New Zealand.’” (135 Black sailors on visiting US ships could pick up a slang expression such as this and take it back home with them.  

A Stingray's Stinger (measurement in inches)

Seriously heavy drinking implied by Ms.Bigeou’s  phrase ‘blues in the bottle’ seems the  immediate ‘solution’ for Mary H. Bradford (who also recorded as ‘Auntie Mary’ Bradford) on her Waco Texas Blues [OKeh 8123] in 1923.  Her lover, presumably from Waco, has left her for good.  ‘Burying’ him in her sub-conscious is not so easy or immediate (and therefore  a less desirable) option as to “put ‘im down in alcohol”

  There’s no need to bury him at all;
Put ‘im down in alco-hol. (136)

In 1927, Mississippi’s Papa Harvey Hull and Long Cleve Reed (see JSP 7798-A) presented a small group of fine recordings harking back to country blues at its earlier stages. A sort of pre-blues atmosphere permeates their Hey Lawdy Mama - France Blues [Black Patti 8001].

  Baby, when I die, don’t bury daddy at all;
Hey! Lawdy  mama, mama. Hey! Lawdy papa,  papa.
Hollerin’ about, babe, that at all.
Well, pickle daddy’s bones baby, in al-kay-hol. (

Country blues men like Hull and Reed would have undoubtedly frequented the barrel houses in the Mississippi Delta.  But as I noted earlier vaudeville blues singers generally stayed out of these places.  As well as appearing in shows in theatres found in cities across the Eastern half of the US, they would often find work in cabaret establishments.  One of the more famous and long enduring husband/wife teams in early blues was Coot Grant and Kid Wilson.  On their fine Find Me At The Greasy Spoon [Paramount 12337] they illustrate the difference between a barrel house and a cabaret or “dancin’ room”.  The implication being that the barrel house was a much more inferior or low-down and rougher place than a cabaret.  Assuming the role of an irate wife who’s husband goes out every night, she phones him to give this message.

C.G. If you miss me here, you’ll find me at the Greasy Spoon;
K.W. Mama, that ain’t no cabaret, it’s only a barrel house saloon.
C.G.   Now, daddy you know you don’t treat me right;
That’s why I’m goin’ to the cabaret again tonight.
An’ what I’m tellin’ you, honey am surely right.
K.W.   You know it’s right.
C.G. You see an awful fight, mornin’, night an’ noon;
That’s just why I’m goin’ down in that dancin’ room.
I mean, that dancin’ room. (

The following year, 1926, Grant (Leola B. Wilson) and Wesley ‘Kid’ Wilson recorded yet another dance which would hit the cabaret and no doubt the barrel house circuits, called Scoop It [Paramount 12379]. Part of which ran:

C.G. Now, you grab your partner, Lordy, Lord;
An’ dance all around the hall.
K.W. Now, Scoop It!
C.G.   I’m doin’ it for you, baby.
K.W.   Scoop It!

You will like it, maybe.
I can get way back, in my knees.

K.W.  Scoop It! Pretty mama, for me.

Mama, like to see you when you bend your knees;
Mama, can you Scoop It for me.
I’m sayin’. Mama do that Scoop It for me.  (

In 1932, Blind Willie McTell teamed up with ‘Ruby Glaze’ - almost certainly Ruth Willis - for some superb and raunchy numbers. The latter adding her sensual and erotic comments after a verse.  While Grant and Wilson’s Scoop It is certainly about a new dance, the McTell item Mama, Let Me Scoop For You [Victor 23328] [Footnote 26: See Railroadin’ Some  Ibid. p.26. For more on this song and the origin of ‘scoop’.] is quite obviously a mainly sexual/sensual song.  To the excellent raggy accompaniment of his 12-string guitar, it is only in his opening lines the listener could be convinced the subject is dancing!

  Stockings is red. Shoes is sand; [coloured]
I cannot stand to see you scoop that man.
Tell me mama, can I scoop for you?
Ruby Glaze (spoken) Lay down to it, papa.

But a few moments later there is little doubt the idea of a dance has been abandoned.

  Ah! Three barrels of liquor. Four barrels of gin;
You can’t scoop, you can’t come in.
R.G.(spoken) Oh boy! You rung my number! (140)

The ‘barrels of ’liquor’ line having been ‘lifted’ from Salty Dog Blues (CD 3) by Papa Charlie Jackson some 8 years earlier. Blind Willie McTell probably drew on earlier vaudeville blues material more than any other singer of country blues.  This included songs by Rosa Henderson and at least two by Butterbeans and Susie.  He cut versions of the latter’s mega-violent A-Z Blues and Married Man’s A Fool in 1949 and 1956 respectively.   

Probably the most popular duo in the 1920s “Butterbeans was born as Jodie Edwards in Marietta, Georgia in 1898 and Susie Hawthorn in 1899 in Pensacola, Florida. [Baker adds] The turn of the century can also be taken as the approximate birth date of the black vaudeville circuit so vital to the development of Afro-American culture”. (141)   Importantly, Duck Baker notes that Butterbean’s “sermon on ‘A Married Man’s A Fool’ is a good example of the kind of humor that passed from the vaudeville stage to country blues.  So did many floating verses”. (142

Some of this often black humour (no pun intended) appears in their Bow Legged Papa [OKeh 8241] in 1925.  With a warning from Susie that ‘Butter’ had better stop straying from the marital home and keep on the “straight an’ narrow path”.

Susie: Now, you better be careful or I’ll lift your goose. (Footnote 27 - see below)

An’ the minute that you start I’m gonna grab you, turn you every way but loose.

You know I got an automatic an’ your papa sure is game;
How in the world can I miss you when I’ve got dead aim?
If you don’t stop cheatin’, your papa surely will;
Crack down on you mama, with my blue-steel pills. [bullets]


Butter, you’re doggone bow-legged. You’re green eyed-ed snail;
If you raise your hand to hit me, I’ll put you under the jail.
So bow-legged papa your mama’s gonna straighten you out. (

[Footnote 27: This appears as a unique phrase, possibly of Susie’s own making. Although Partridge does give the following definition under one of various entries for ‘goose’. “Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high…coll[oquial]: C.19-20; ob. Ex a plucked goose hanging out of a fox’s reach”. (143)  Just maybe this was not as obsolete as Partridge supposed in the early 20th. century.  Roughly translated by Susie as withdrawing her ‘sexual favours’ if Butterbeans doesn’t behave. Is it a coincidence that he admits at one point that he is ‘slicker than an old sly fox’?]

About 3 months later Ida Cox would put out her How Can I Miss You When I’ve Got Dead Aim [Paramount12234] with fine backing from the Lovie Austin outfit.  But this phrase ultimately derives from a ‘blues ballad’ Railroad Bill’, and under this title appeared as the only commercial black recording of the piece - by Will Bennett - in the pre-war era. Although several versions exist in the Library of Congress archives and some have been released on CD.  Reaching back into the end of the 19th. Century, this song was about a real-life character and a train robber called Morris Slater who was shot dead by law officers in 1897; down in Alabama. [Footnote 28: See Railroadin’ Some. Ibid. p.p.180-181 for a fuller account of Morris Slater.]

  How in the world can I miss ‘im when I’ve got dead aim?
Gotta 38 Special on a 44 frame;
Refrain: Now, I’m gonna ride my Railroad Bill. (145)

Whereas Butterbeans and Susie made dozens of recordings together, another vaudeville blues duo made only a fleeting appearance, in 1927.  Although Martha Copeland was prolifically recorded she teamed up with Sidney Easton for just 2 titles.  One of which was Hard Headed Mama [Victor 20548].  With Bert Howell’s sawing fiddle, Copeland gives out the most predominant persona in vaudeville blues - that of an individual not to be messed around with - especially by the opposite sex!  She gives him notice to quit in no uncertain terms having made up some “new rules”. 

M.C.  Buster, one thing. You good for nothin’.
Do you understand?
I’m goin’ to make some new rules, brother;
S.E.(spoken)  Do what?
M.C.  Get myself another man. (146)

Easton then reacts threatening violence to which Martha Copeland responds to in like fashion and delivers her opinion in withering style.

  Now, you ain’t no high-class dog. You just a common old mutt;
You was a good old gobbler but you lost your strut.
S.E.  Mmmm!
Hard-headed Sam;
Says, you down from Alabam.
You tryin’ to make a fool outta me.

In similar vogue, Viola McCoy cut her superlative “Git” Goin’ [Cameo 1097] with a blistering solo  by Louis Metcalf and a rocking piano accompaniment from Cliff Jackson, at the end of 1926.   

But some of these women, usually referred to in the 3rd. person by the singers, had no qualms about wrecking the life of another woman by taking her lover/husband away from her.  Fairly common names were used for this fictitious character - as Clara Smith’s ‘Hannah Johnson’ and Mary Stafford’s ‘Lizzie Brown’. (CD 2)  So with Lucille Hegamin, one of the main singers to swiftly follow Mamie Smith into the recording studio - only about 3 months after Smith’s Crazy Blues (CD 1).  Ms. Hegamin gives the low-down on ‘Lillie Lee’. 

  Miss Lillie Lee from Tennessee, was known to be quite rough;
Anytime, anywhere, she would always strut her stuff. (148)

She meets ‘Sadie Stowe’ who ‘had a beau’.  Lillie Lee falls for him big-time and she says to the hapless Sadie in the song:

  He may be your man but he comes to see me sometimes;
An’ when he’s with you he’s always got me on his mind.
I ain’t no vampire, that is true;
But I can certainly take your man from you.
My wicked smile. My wicked walk;
I’ve got those kind of eyes that seem to talk.

This was Ms. Hegamin’s biggest hit and the “song was recorded many times by blues singers and jazz bands,” (150).  Her husband Bill Hegamin was probably on the piano stool. 

An immortal verse reflecting this aggressive and amoral (or immoral) self-assertion in early vaudeville blues singers, was long thought to have first been recorded by eerie singer/slide guitarist Sam Collins. (see JSP 7781-4 trax). Indeed, it forms part of his title Devil In The Lion’s Den [Gennett 6181] in 1927.  But in recent years - so I discovered - a form of these lines were included by Sara Martin in 1923 on her Uncle Sam Blues [OKeh 8085].  A ‘harder’ bluesier vocal was supplied by Edna Hicks (once again).  Her version of Uncle Sam Blues [Paramount 12069] which came out some 3 months later in early November, 1923, closely followed Sara Martin’s original recording.  Interestingly, 2 other versions of this song issued between times, omitted the ‘lion’s den’ verse and only Tudie Wells (see Table 4) included the ‘warning’ to other women in respect of their men.

  Girls, you better stop your man from smilin’ in my face. (x 2)
Wake up one of these mornin’s, Edna been an’ took your place.

I got ways like the Devil, born in a lion’s den;
Got ways like the Devil, born in a lion’s den.
My chief occupation, takin’ monkey women’s men.

The first verse was adapted from an early Blind Lemon (see JSP 7706) song while the second soon became a floating verse in the country blues canon - where  indeed, it may well already have been extant in the rural tradition.

Table 3 [Footnote 29: Uncle Sam by the Earl Richardson Quartet in 1941, for the Library of Congress may be a fifth version. But this cannot be determined as it remains an  unissued item.]

Artist Label Date/location
1. Sara Martin OKeh c.17/7/23. New York City.
2.  Clara Smith Columbia 2/10/23. New York City.
3.  Tudie Wells     Pathe Actuelle  c. 3/10/23. New York City.
4.   Edna Hicks   Paramount 

early November, 1923. New York City.

This aggressive streak in vaudeville blues singers is reflected in some of the dances they introduced on their records.  Black dance is a major factor in African American culture (see p.p. 12, 22-27, 36-37).  In 1926, Alberta Hunter - who is often linked with the origins of the Black Bottom - told her listeners how to do another new dance; in her good-rocking Everybody Mess Around  [OKeh 8383]. 

Alberta Hunter & unk. female (speech): Messin’ Round. Everybody Mess.
1.  Where the Suwannee River flows;
A dancin’ man known as Mose. 

Introduced a brand new dance;
Has the whole town in a trance.
Ref:  Messin’ Round. He calls it Messin’ Round.
2. There’s a gal down in New Orleans;
The shimmy-nest gal I ever seen.
An’ they call her Ida Red;
She’s almost killed old Uncle Ned.
Ref: Messin’ Round. Always Messin’ Round.
3.  Old King Solomon was a wise old soul;
Had all the women under his control.
But now, the sheiks would steal is gals away; [Footnote 30 - see below]
‘Cos he can’t do what they’re doin’ today.
Ref:  Messin’ Rouind. I mean Messin’ Round.
4.    Now, anyone can learn the knack;
Hands on your hips an’ bend way back.
Stand on one spot, nice an’ light;
Twist around from left to right.
Ref: Messin’ Round. They call that Messin’ Round.  (152)

[Footnote 30: A cool cat (male) based on the role in the film a Sheik of Araby played by  Rudolph Valentino a few years earlier. The female equivalent (less popular in the Blues) became ‘Sheba’ from the Old Testament.]

Inspired no doubt by the last line in Ms. Hunter’s 4th. verse, Atlanta’s 12-string guitar hero, Barbecue Bob, picked up on yet another dance often thought to have arrived in the 1950s - the Twist - introduced by Hank Ballard & The Midnighters; famously covered by Chubby Checker.  Calling it Twistin’ Your Stuff [Columbia unissued) Bob carries his song along at a furious pace. 

In 1924, Trixie Smith cut a fine Don’t Shake it No More [Paramount 12211] which although does not mention the Mess Around, does include reference to other dances such as the very descriptive Shimmy-She-Wobble.  Further to this, parts of Ms. Smith’s low-down melody, were taken up by the Memphis Jug Band for their ‘slow-dragging’ Fourth Street Mess Around [Victor 23251] in 1930. 

The Memphis Jugs had earlier cut their I Can Beat You Plenty (That Hand You Tried To Deal Me) in September, 1929.  This was taken from a phrase that appeared in early April, 1924, by Rosa Henderson on her How Come You Do Me Like You Do [Vocalion 14795]. 

Probably the finest of the second-line of vaudeville blues singers, Rosa is telling her man just how it is.

    You better treat me right or let me be;
I got you beat [what] you doin’ , what you doin’ to me. (153)

Rosa Henderson 1923

Also used in country blues by singers such as Blind Joe Reynolds - who adapted the phrase as his final verse on Outside Woman Blues (see JSP 7781-4 trax & JSP 7723-3 trax) and Clifford Gibson.  Over two months prior to the Memphis Jug Band, Gibson recorded Beat You Doing It [QRS  R 7987] which constituted his first recording.  Like Reynolds, he concluded his blues with a version of the Rosa Henderson phrase. 

Viola McCoy had recorded a version of Henderson’s How Come You Do Me Like You Do only a few months later, in 1924.  But in the latter half of her recording career she cut her fine Slow Up Papa [Cameo 1144] liberally sprinkled with references to automobile parts used as telling sexual symbolism.  A couple of years later, Barbecue Bob responded with Honey Your Going Too Fast [Columbia 14436] in 1929.  Robert Johnson’s well-known phrase ‘keep on tanglin’ with the wires’ from his Terraplane Blues must have surely been influenced by these recordings.  Especially Viola McCoy’s lines:

  Now, your spark is weak.
An’ your tyres flat.
You can’t go the distance.
If you speed like that.

Now, your motor chokes.
An’ you’ve jammed your gears.
You will never make it in a million years.
Now, your brakes won’t work.
When you go in high. [gear]
Your carburettor’s flooded.
An’ your tank is dry.

Slow up, papa. Slow up, papa.
Mama likes to take her time. (154)

Rosa Henderson’s Penitentiary Bound Blues [Vocalion 14995] from 1925 is, in lyrical terms, barely one step removed from Blind Willie McTell’s Death Cell Blues [Vocalion 02577] recorded 8 years later. [Footnote 31: McTell’s Death Room Blues, which he recorded 3 times for Vocalion  between 1933-1935 (all remained unisssued at the time), is a different song.]  In essence they are variations of the same song.  Ms. Henderson posits the scenario of a prisoner facing a (literal) life sentence whereas Blind Willie contemplates “a crap’s eye worth of freedom” (155) just before the state send his subject into eternity.

The vaudeville blues of the 1920s/30s and the rural blues, which lie at the roots, are not two separate genres but inexorably inter-linked as one; which I hope this CD set more than ably demonstrates.  The influence from one to the other is far more prevalent than is generally acknowledged.  It is also not just a one-way traffic from country to city but much more reciprocal.  Being primarily a vocal music the lyrics of the early Blues were of paramount importance to its original audience - the working-class African Americans. 

‘Mississippi’ Max Haymes       October, 2011.


126. Haven’t Seen No Whiskey

‘Jackson’ Joe Williams 1938.

127. Oliver P.

p.18. (S&S)

128. Ayers E. p.204.
129. Ibid.  
130. Ibid.  
131. Mean Old Master Blues Bessie Tucker 1929.
132. Stingaree Blues (A Down Home Blues)

Esther Bigeou 1921.

133. Ibid.  
134. Wikipedia


135. Partridge E. p.912.
136. Waco Texas Blues

Mary H. Bradford 1923.

137. Hey Lawdy Mama - The France Blues Papa Harvey Hull 1927.
138. Find Me At The Greasy Spoon

Coot Grant & Kid Wilson 1925.

139. Scoop It Grant & Wilson 1926.  
140. Mama, let Me Scoop For You Blind Willie McTell & Ruby Glaze 1932.
141. Baker Duck

Notes to Butterbeans And Susie Vol.1 1924-1925 [Document DOCD-5544] 1997.

142. Ibid.  
143. Partridge Ibid. p.391.
144. Bow Legged Papa

Butterbeans & Susie 1926.

145. Railroad Bill Will Bennett 1929.
146. Hard Headed Mama

Martha Copeland 1927.

147. Ibid.  
148. He May Be Your Man (But He Comes To See Me Sometimes)

Lucille Hegamin  1922.

149. Ibid.  
150. Smith Chris Notes to Lucille Hegamin Vol.1 `920-1922 [Document. DOCD-5419] 1995.
151. Uncle Sam Blues        

Edna Hicks  1923.

152. Everybody Mess Around

Alberta Hunter 1926.

153. Slow Up Papa

Viola McCoy 1927.

154. Honey You’re Going Too Fast Barbecue Bob 1929.
155. Death Cell Blues

Blind Willie McTell 1933.


© Copyright 2012 Max Haymes. All rights reserved.

Who Toot Your Fruttie Nice An' Tight?
It's Papa's Elgin Movements From His Shoulders Da-Own
Eagle Rock Me Mama, Sally Long Me, Too
You Was A Good Old Gobbler, But You Lost Your Strut


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