ISE GWINE DOWN TO RHODY’S
Sung by: J.A. Latham
Recorded in Batesville, AR 8/15/61
Click here to listen to the original recording
Called to my driver and I told him to stop.
Chorus: And I’se going down to Rhody’s
To see old Rhody’s daughter.
Says I, “Mr. Wright, will you mend my yoke?”
He jumped at the bellows and he blowed out smoke.
Says I, “Mr. Wright, do you charge anything?
Just for to bend my steeple and the ring.”
“These little jobs, they are so small,
I hardly make any charge at all.”
As I drove down to Swinner’s mill,
The mud sucked in my old hind wheel.
Popped my whip and I shake my line,
My fingers tingle in the wintertime.
I popped my whip, and it popped so loud,
Drawed the lightning through the cloud.
Popped my whip, leader sprung,
Trace chain broke and my wagon hung.
I stuck my shoulder to the wheel,
And in the ground I stuck my heel.
All my efforts was in vain,
Although I made an awful strain.
A rainy day and a muddy road,
Sorry team, and an awful load.
Oh, I sat down to take a cry,
Saw a man come driving by.
Says I, “Old mister, for conscience’s sake,
Will you help this darky out of a state?”
He hitched his horses before my steers;
From my eyes I wiped my tears.
The horses being big and strong,
God! They moved the old nigger along.
(Comment by Mr. Latham: “That’s as far as I can go.”)