Threw his watch away.
I told my captain,
Captain, my feet was cold.
“Doggone your feet, Lawd,
Let the wheelbar’ roll.”
I told my captain,
Just to keep down trouble,
I reckon I must obey.
Here come the chain gang boss.
But after all there are no workaday songs superior to the gang songs, heave-a-horas, steel-driving songs, short pick-and-shovel songs, and the scores of other short specimens which accompany special tasks requiring hard work, team unison, or continuous effort. There is, of course, no attempt here to present even an approach to exhaustive lists. We have so far found no intimation of where the number of such songs will stop. But the examples which follow are adequate to continue the portraiture of the Negro as he works and as he sings.