Lawd, I laid right down in jail and cried.
Lawd, I’m so awful worried till I don’t know what to do.
Well, I mistreated Daddy, he hangs ’roun’ me day and night.
He wakes me in the mornings,
He moans when I am sleepin’.
He makes me swear, Lawd,
Have no other man but you.
In the Negro’s prison songs is revealed again that dual nature which sings of sorrowful limitations alongside humorous and philosophical resignation. Here are scenes of the lonesome road illuminated by entertainment of rare quality. “I’m in jail now,” he sings, “but jes’ fer a day.” “I ain’t got no parole, but I’m a-comin’ back.” It is true that he has only corn bread and fat meat to eat but that’s “better’n I has at home.” And then with genuine humor he sings also of the iron cuffs about his hands which also are “stronger’n I has at home.”
Better’n I Has at Home
Cawn pone, fat meat,