Uncle Charlie finished the interview by saying, "Lord teach me how to pray, And teach me to love it woo."
[Lilah Walker]
Interview with Lilah Walker
—William B. Strickland, Carbon Hill
I HEAR DE WHIRRIN' OF QUARE WINGS
I walked through a small glade overshadowed by large oak trees, near Carbon Hill in Walker County, Alabama. A weird little cabin confronted me; its porch and steps loosely held to the main part of the structure by a few weak boards. Lilah Walker, an old Negro woman, squatted on the steps with her chin resting in her black hands, in an attitude of deep reverie. As the old woman heard me approaching she raised her head in cordial greeting.
"Come in, young marster," she said. "How is you today?"
"Fine, Aunt Lilah," I answered. 'How's the world treating you?"
"Oh, I can't complain," she replied.
The old woman continued.
"It mought be safer to set inside, 'case dey says when de sun swing low lak dis dat de miassahs whut make you sick 'gin to rise outten yon' swamp." Then she chuckled: "I bin here since 'fo' de wah, an' I ain't neber seen no miassahs rise outten dat swamp yit. Yassuh, dat sho is so, but from whut I seed rise outten it my 'pinion is dat dey done lef' long 'fo' dis. But I seed quare wings whirrin' outten dat swamp jus' 'fo' days atter de surrender, an' I seed 'em near 'bout eve'y day since. I seed 'em an' I heered 'em jus' a whirrin'!