"Aunt Rachel, my own aunt, lived at Massy's house. You see Masseys was dere name and dey was white folks but we say Massy's house. I wanted my old aunt to see my new boots. When I got dere I called my aunt to come see my boots. She come and say, 'Hain't you scared to come here all 'lone'. I say, 'no'. I twisted and turn, round and round so she could hear 'em squeak. But when it come time to go home, I got plum' scared. Aunt Rachel had to take me. She took me where I could see our house. My! How old missus laughed when she found I had to be brung home. She say, 'I told you, you be scared to come alone'.
"In dem days no nigger got boots till he was big and able to work for 'em. I was old missus pet and she plum' spilt me. I allus got more'n de odder niggers got. Boys had cotton shirts and de gals had cotton dresses.
"You know it's a funny thing, de white folks took everything from us niggers, even try to take our old songs and have dem on de radio. We niggers say 'De white folks take everything, dis, dat, an' t'other, but what we got is jes' natural borned to us.'
"I knocks a tamborine jes' like de Georgia niggers played a tambourine, 'fore de Civil War. Dem Georgia minstrels was taken over to England to perform 'fore de Queen Victoria, way 'fore Civil War. Folks from way up East got 'em and took 'em. Dey ain't many plays like dem no more."
"Uncle" Fil, as he was familiarly known in Rolla, played for the Folk Festival in Rolla and received so much applause, he had to be helped off the stage. He is exceedingly active. He plays the old tambourine, (he owned so many years) under and over his legs, behind his head, bouncing it and catching it, never losing the rhythm an instant.
He is tall and erect, and has a remarkable memory, especially for dates, names and places. He loves children, and usually has a pocket full of pennies for the babies. His home is a one-room hut (plain shed building) back of the Post Office on Ninth Street, Rolla, Missouri. He lives alone and has no living relatives. The people of Rolla aid him with gifts.
Uncle "Fil's" favorite old spiritual is below. He says: "Dis song, I'm a tellin' you, is de truf."
Dis Is My Buryin' Groun'
Ask my Lord for mercy,
Good Lord, gimme religion,
Good Lord, gimme me a heart to b'lieve,
Dis is de buryin' groun'.
Amen, Hallelujah. Dis is de buryin' groun'.
Tell your mother,
Tell your father,
Dis is de buryin' groun',
Tell all your neighbors,
Tell all your neighbors chillun,
Dis is de buryin' groun'.
Uncle Fil says, "Niggers jes' makes dey own verses, jes' naturally comes to us, and we make our own rhyme as we go."
One of the humorous songs, a favorite of his, goes: