Uploaded September 2020 | Updated September 2026, 6 days ago
Day 189 of the American Songbag Stay-at-Home Series
In his poem, I Hear America Singing, Walt Whitman (1855) gives a great definition of folk music:
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day — at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
This song, "Yonder Comes My Pretty Little Girl" adds the song of the no-good, two-timing gambler with a foot fetish and a pregnant mistress.
NOTE: When a lyric mentions apron strings that hang low, that's another way of saying, "with child".
Day 189 of the American Songbag Stay-at-Home Series
In his poem, I Hear America Singing, Walt Whitman (1855) gives a great definition of folk music:
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day — at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
This song, "Yonder Comes My Pretty Little Girl" adds the song of the no-good, two-timing gambler with a foot fetish and a pregnant mistress.
NOTE: When a lyric mentions apron strings that hang low, that's another way of saying, "with child".
![There Are No Lice On Us
Sandburg writes: Singing [this] to make the syllables fit into the tune of America is more fun than crossword puzzles or writing sonnets about sin or triolets about violets.
There are no lice on us,
There are no lice on us—
No lice on us.
There may be one or two
Great big fat lice on you,
There are no lice on us—
No lice on us. There Are No Lice On Us](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Oi4gugJd3uQ/mqdefault.jpg)

![If I Die a Railroad Man
Day 223 of the American Songbag Stay-at-Home Series
O Lord, let it rain,
Wet my little dress!
So that corn will be cheaper And I can fill my belly!
Sandburg writes: This translation from hieroglyphics on an ancient Egyptian temple is among the oldest known songs of working people. It is not a far cry from such lines to the replies of a witness before the industrial relations commission, who told the commissions examiner, Frank P. Walsh, that he and other railroad men had at a certain time been sitting and talking. What were you talking about? Oh, just railroad talk. Anything particular in railroad talk. No, just railroad talk. Well, could you tell us just what you mean by railroad talk? Oh whiskey and women and higher wages and shorter hours.. . . .
The lyric here is [a black and Anglo-Saxon] blend in its making; it was heard at the University of Kentucky; the young man who sang it said the notes are sometimes blued and it is then called The Louisville & Nashville Blues. If I Die a Railroad Man](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/P-sayFyVHvg/mqdefault.jpg)


![Telephone Book
Sandburg writes: When Folk-Say was published by the University of Oklahoma it included poems by Waring Cuney, a Black poet, [a part of the Harlem Renaissance] whose lines have simplicity that often goes with folk songs. Albert Hague has given a tune and an arrangement to two of the modern Cuney lyrics. Why shouldnt there be a song about the telephone book? Deftly the Cuney lines bring out that there can be moments when all the names in the phone book from A to Z are no use to you except a single precious one.
William Waring Cuney (May 6, 1906 – June 30, 1976) was a poet of the Harlem Renaissance. He is best known for his poem No Images, which has been widely anthologized. Although his work was largely forgotten in the United States by the 1950s, it was translated into German and Dutch and developed a following in Europe. He published only two volumes of poetry in his lifetime: Puzzles, a limited edition published in the Netherlands in 1960, and Storefront Church, published in London in 1973. He died in New York City on June 30, 1976. Telephone Book](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/PQyuTqFdyA8/mqdefault.jpg)

![Ten Thousand Miles Away from Home
Day 284 of the American Songbag Stay-at-Home Series
Sandburg writes: This may be one of the many Po’ Boy songs, [see Po Boy, day 15 in this series] carrying its own peculiar load of grief. Verse 2 sometimes goes—
I went down to the railroad
Where the big six-wheelers ran;
I saw my woman sitting there
In the arms of another man.
And occasionally, for the sake of plot, these two verses are interspersed—
I stood on the street corner;
It was shortly after dark;
Along came a man with the woman I love,
And I stabbed him through the heart.
“Well, it’s please, Mr. Judge, now please, Mr. Judge,
It’s what are you goin’ to do with me?”
He says, “ If I find you guilty, dear boy,
I’m goin’ to send you to the penitentiary.”
From Alan Lomaxs notes: There are stanzas in this one from so many different hobo songs, sung in so many different ways, that one might call this the master hobo song. Actually I had some hand in mixing the verses together in American Ballads and Folk Songs (Macmillan, 1934), from which Pete Seegers version comes. Ten Thousand Miles Away from Home](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/PfGRep6ZWII/mqdefault.jpg)


