Lifting the Veil
The First Bluesmen (1926-1956)
Rev. Gary Davis & Peers

78 rpm discs from the Harry Smith Archive & private recordings

Black culture remained isolated until the first recordings of artists in the 1920s resulted in the earliest prolific documentation of numerous musical traditions, along with a language rich in metaphor, introspection, chronicling events, legends, and personal experiences. Transcribed texts offer a vital poetic content. One artist, Huddie "Leadbelly" Ledbetter, ran the gamut of field hollers, sermons, folk and popular songs, country music, the regional rhythms and dances of Louisiana, adaptations of music from every possible source, his repertoire spanning beyond four hundred works. The discovery of a 1941 radio broadcast, when Ledbetter hosted a weekly show, finds a mock sermon on pancakes followed by a sacred song. Other examples (Gallows Pole, an 18th century English traditional appeal to bribe a hangman, and Leaving Blues) reveal further underpinnings, as the ballad's rhythm and chord structure are close to the Blues, with Leaving Blues a template for an urban genre that eventually prevailed. Rev. Gary Davis' performances further compliment the range of music behind the Blues. Works he later recorded find an improvisatory spirit implementing many new turns in familiar solos.
The creators who established the Blues followed what John Coltrane would describe as the act of "dipping into the reservoir" of culture.

1. Leadbelly: Sermon on Pancakes
Now this is a sermon. Big stream of molasses up in heaven and a big stream of honey, a lot of flapjack.
When you get up into heaven, when you get up into heaven, you'll find a big stream of molasses and a big lot of flapjack sitting on each side. And it's a lot of butter on each side and a big knife to cut the butter with. When you get on to the stream of molasses you're going to cut the butter with your knife, you're going to drag the butter through the flapjacks, you're going to drag the flapjacks through the big stream of molasses, you're going to drag them across your mouth and say: "A bow bow bow bow bow. . ." Then you go a little further you'll find a big stream of honey, and you got a lot of hot biscuits sitting on each side and there's a lot of butter there and you've got a big knife to cut the butter with over there, and when you walk down to the big stream of honey, it may sound a little funny, and it don't cost no money. You drag your knife through the hot biscuits and you're going to drag the biscuits through the honey and you'll drag them across your mouth and say: "Goo goo goo goo goo..." and it's "goo goo goo goo goo."
Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes!

2. Leadbelly: The Blood's Done Signed Your Name
Ain't you glad, ain't you glad that the blood has done signed your name.
Oh the blood's done signed your name.

In the heaven, in the heaven, yes the blood's done signed your name.
Oh the blood's done signed your name.

3. Rev. Gary Davis: Come Down to See Me Some Time
Come down to see me some time,
Eat your bread before you come, bring your dinner in your hand,
Get out before suppertime.

I went down to Nappy's house, Nappy was gone to bed,
I hugged and kissed old Nappy's wife and that killed old Nappy dead.

Well Brother Rabbit come to my house, thought he come to see me,
When I come to find it out, he tried to [per]suade my wife to leave me.

Well Brother Rabbit come to my house, I treated Brother Rabbit well,
I slipped Brother Rabbit around the house and I give Brother Rabbit hell.

I had a little bag and it was gold, all the strings was twine,
All the little songs I used to sing, I wished that girl was mine.

6. Leadbelly: Gallows Pole
Mama did you bring me any silver? Mama did you bring me any gold?
What did you bring with your father to keep me from the gallows pole?
(Yes . . .what did you. . . bring, what did you. . .)
What did you bring me to keep me from the gallows pole?

Son I brought you a little silver, Son I brought you a little gold,
Son I brought you a little of everything to keep you from the gallows pole,
(Yeah. . . I brought it. . . I bought it. . .)
. . you to bring me to keep me from the gallows pole.

Honey did you bring me any silver? Honey did you bring me any gold?
What did you bring with your mother to keep me from the gallows pole?
( . . .what did you. . . bring, what did you. . . bring,)
What did you bring me to keep me from the gallows pole?

7. Leadbelly: Leaving Blues
Yes I'm leaving in the morning Mama, but I don't know where to go,
Cause the woman I've been living with for twenty years, Mama,
Said "You can't stop in here no more."

Yes I feel like walking Baby, coffin coming in my back door,
I see my coffin coming Mama, lordy lord in my back door,
And to hear that good looking woman tell me to face, Mama,
That she don't want me no more.

Yes I'm leaving, leaving Baby, and I won't be back no more,
I'm leaving I'm leaving. Mama, and I won't be back no more,
Cause the woman I've been living with for twenty years Mama,
Said "You got to bottle up and go."

9. Big Bill Broonzy: Starvation Blues
Broonzy recalled this Paramount session, with John Thomas on second guitar:
"Me and Thomas was sitting down, talking about what we had to do to make a record. They had my head in a horn of some kind and I had to pull my head out of the horn to read the words and back in it to sing. And they had Thomas put on a pillar about two feet high and they kept on telling us to play like we would if we was at home or at a party, and they kept on telling us to relax and giving us moonshine whiskey to drink­and I got drunk."

Starvation in my kitchen, rent sign's on my door,
And if my luck don't change I can't see her in my home no more.

And I got up this morning, just about the dawn of day,
And I ain't got no job, I ain't got no place to stay.

Lord I walked to the store, I ain't got a dime,
Then I put down a neck bone and the clerk don't pay me no mind.

Lord lord lord..., Mama some old rainy day,
Me and my luck won't change and I don't want to be treated this-a way.

Got a brand new skillet*, I'll buy me a brand lid,
I've got a brand new sweetie don't you know I need me a brand new kid.
*The first time Broonzy sings this verse he stumbles over the lyrics.

10. Leola B. WIlson & Blind Blake: Black Biting Bee Blues
Early this morning I heard somebody calling me,
It wasn't my baby, that black snake's biting me.

Gonna take my razor, cut my honeysuckle vine,
Some black bee just stole that honey of mine.

I rather have my head in a trough (?), my body on some railroad track,
Than to have that black bee, biting me in my back.

It's raining in my kitchen, lightning on my wall,
I know by that some mule is kicking in my stall.

13. Buddy Boy Hawkins: A-Rag
Now this here's (the) A-Rag I'm playing, this here's my rag.
I brought it all the way from Jackson, Mississippi.
Some people don't know what this rag is.
I'm the only man [that] can play this here Rag, called that A-Rag.
Here's where I make the Jackson girls shimmy-wobble.
That's what you call that (shuffle?).
Here's what makes all the girls feel good ­ listen here,
When you do this here, listen to this run:
Now listen here again: that's what you call that terrible rag we got now,
Got off that other rag.
Here's where you get happy now, getting happy.
You call that Jackson A-Rag.

14. William Moore: Raggin' the Blues.
Come on Uncle Bill, let's rag these blues.
Play them sweet and low.
Ah rag 'em Barber Bill.
Got Old Bill to barking.
Jazz them blues,
Rag my blues away boy, rag 'em.
Ah sit on them Bill.
Ah the big man's eating up the little man's business.
Jazz 'em for me Bill.
Ah rag that thing.
Ah stomp, stomp.
Take them back in the woods Bill and rag that thing.
Jazz them boy, jazz 'em.
All over that box Barber Bill, it's a box.
Not on the comb or the brush but on that box.
Play them for me Barber Bill all night long.
Rag my blues away, ah rag 'em.
Rag them till I sweat boy.
Ah rag 'em boy.

15. William Moore*: Old Country Rock
Come on Bill let's take them for an old country rock.
Let's go back down on the Rappahannock, down Tappahannock way.
Whip it Bill while everybody rocks.
Get that old rock streaming in, Bill.
Everybody rocks.
Old folks rock, and young folks rock,
Boys rock, girls rock, trot back man and let me rock.
Rock me Sis[ter], rock me, rock me till I sweat.
Trot back folks and let your Pappy rock, Pappy knows how.
Children rock, Sister Ernestine, show your Pappy how you rock.
Might fine boys, rock it, rock it till the cows come home.
Whip that box Bill, whip it.
Too fast, I mean too fast for the public.
Now up the country, back down the country, get on that old rock,
Rappahannock, Tappahannock, cross the river boys, cross that river,
Man it's sporty.
Play it Bill, play it 'till the sergeant comes.
*It is unlikely that Moore is the speaker on these recordings.

16. Gus Cannon & Blind Blake: Poor Boy
Been a poor boy and a long ways from home. . .
Well I got 'rrested, no money to buy my fine. . .
Said I guess I'll have to catch the Frisco out in this land. . .
Well if that don't do, I'm going to try the woods awhile. . .
I cried "Hello Central, give me your long distance phone."
She asked what number did I want.
I cried "Please Ma'am give me thirteen forty-nine."
Tried to phone it to my. . .
Tell her send me a little money for to buy my fine. . .
She cried the bucket's got a [hole in it]. . .Lord it don't hold no beer.

17. Ramblin' Willard Thomas: Poor Boy
Poor boy, poor boy, poor boy long ways from home.

I was down in Louisiana, doing as I please,
Now I'm in Texas I got to work or leave.
If your home's in Louisiana, what you doing over here?
Say my home ain't in Texas and I sure don't care.

I don't care if the boat don't never land,
I'd like to stay on (the) water as long as any man.

And my boat come a rockin', just like a drunkard man,
And my home's on the water and I sure don't like land.

18. Charley Patton: Mississippi Boll Weevil Blues
It's a little boll weevil he's moving it-a in the [air,] Lordy,
You can plant your cotton and you won't get a half-a cent, Lordy.

"Boll weevil, boll weevil, where's your little home?" Lordy,
"A Louisiana raised in Texas is-a where I's bred and born," Lordy.

Well I saw the boll weevil Lord-a circle, Lord-a in the air, Lordy.
The next time I seen him Lord he had his family there, Lordy.

Boll weevil left Texas, Lord he bid me "Fare ye well," Lordy,
Where you going now?
"I'm going down to Mississippi, going to give Louisiana hell," Lordy.

Boll weevil tell the (woman), "Think I treat you fair?" Lordy,
How is that, Boy?
"Suck all the blossom and leave your hedges square," Lordy.
The next time I seen you, you ['d]-a had your family there, Lordy.

Boll weevil (and his-a) wife "We'll sit down on the hay," Lordy,
Boll weevil told the wife "Let's take this forty a[cres]," Lordy.

Boll weevil told his wife, said "I believe I may go North," Lordy,
Lord I won't tell nobody,
Let's a leave-a Louisiana, raise and go to Arkansas, Lordy.

Well I saw the boll weevil Lord-a circle, Lord-a in the air, Lordy.
Next time I seen him Lord he had his family there, Lordy.

Boll weevil told his wife, "Lord I think I treat you fair," Lordy,
"Sucks all the blossom and leaves your hedges square," Lordy.

"Boll weevil, Boll weevil, where's your little home?" Lordy,
"Most anywhere they raise cotton and corn," Lordy.

"Boll weevil, Boll weevil, thought I treat you fair," Lordy,
The next time I (n)eed you, you had your family there, Lordy.

19. Charley Patton: Screaming and Hollering the Blues
Jackson on a hill, Mama, Natchez just below,
Sure it is, you know where they are,
I ever get back home I won't be back no more.

Oh my mother's getting old, her head is turning gray,
Don't you know it'll break her heart [to] know my living this-a way.

Ever woke up in the morning, jinx all around your bed?
Sugar, I know how it is, Baby.
Turned my face to the wall and I didn't have a word to say.

No use to hollering, no use to screaming and crying,
For you know you got a home Mama, as long as I got mine.

Hey, Lord have mercy on my wicked soul,
Baby, you know I ain't going to mistreat you,
I wouldn't mistreat you, Baby, for my weight in gold.

Going away Baby, don't you want to go?
I'm going away sweet Mama, don't you want to go?
I know you want to go, Baby.
Take God to tell (when) I'll be back here anymore.

20. Rube Lacy: Mississippi Jailhouse Groan
Mmmmm, I promise not to holler now, now Mama now, hi, hi.

I'm laying in jail now with my back turned to the wall,
And I'm laying in jail with my back turned to the wall,
And I'm laying in jail now with my back turned to the wall,

And she brought me coffee and she brought me tea,
Yes she brought me coffee, Lord and she brought me tea,
She brought everything now but that lowdown jailhouse key.

Mmmmm, I promise not to holler now, now Mama, hi, hi.

And my momma told me, and my poppa told me too,
And my momma told me, and my poppa stood and cried,
You got too many women now, now for any boy your size.

I looked at my momma and I hung my head and cried,
If my woman kill me now, Lord I['m] afraid to die.

21. Rube Lacy: Ham Hound [sic: Hock] Crave
You can read my letter, now you sure don't know my mind,
When you think I'm loving you I'm thieving all the time.

I ain't got nobody now, I'm all in here by myself. Who you telling? Tell it!

Let me be your Sometime now till your Always come,
And I'll do more for you now than your Always ever done.

I don't want no hog head, don't eat no chitlings, don't want no spare ribs,
Don't eat no back bone, Mama I got a ham bone I wonder can I get it boiled?
Oh these Chicago women now, about to let my ham bone spoil.

Church's bells are ringing, the preacher preaching, secretary writing,
The members shouting, the dirty deacon has taken a taken my gal and gone,
And all his children are, Papa, trying to sing my song.

Let me be your Rocker now, till your Straight Chair comes,
And I'll rock you easier than your Straight Chair ever done.

22. Edward Thompson: Seven Sisters
When Rev. Gary Davis played this as a solo, one phrase was identical to Thompson's; both possibly derive from a lost source.

Coal black woman can't fry no meat for me,
You know black is evil, that gal may poison me.

I got a new way of spelling sweet old Tennessee:
Double T, double N, double T, double S U C.

Well she rolled and tumbled and cried the whole night long,
She received that message that the man she loved was gone. How'd she cry?

Said my love's like water, it turns off and on,
When you think I'm lovin' I done turned off and gone.
When the death wagon rolled up with the rumblin' sound,
Said I knowed about that, my gal was graveyard bound.

23. Willard Ramblin' Thomas: Hard Dallas:
Before I would stand to see my baby go down,
I would (trunk) all of my clothes and walk the streets in my morning gown.

And before I would stand to see my baby leave town,
I would beat the train to the trestle, and run that doggone train down.

Man, Dallas is hard, I don't care if you work both night and day,
There will be somebody coming to collect on your pay day.

Man don't never make Dallas your home!
When you look for your friends they will all be gone.

24. Willard Ramblin' Thomas: Back Gnawing Blues
I never loved but three womens in my life,
My mother and my sister, and my partner's wife.

My momma told me when I was about twelve years old:
"Man you're nothing but a back biter, may God bless your soul."

They call me back-biter, I am a back-biter, I'll bite any man in the back.

I'm going to tell all you women something, baby you might not like,
I want to know if I could bite your man in the back.
You might arrest me, Brother, but I will never arrest you,
If you lie me in chains I will gnaw your backbone half in two.

25. Willard Ramblin' Thomas: Sawmill Moan
Ahhhh, ahhh, hey, hey, and I had 'em all night and had 'em all again today.

I wished I had my same old good girl back,
'Cause that's the only one that I ever did like.

How can I love you, how can I love you?
How can I love you, when you stay out both night and day?
How can I love you, you treat me most any way?

I'm gonna sing this time and I ain't gonna sing no more,
'Cause my girl have called me, and I've got to go.

If I don't go crazy, I'm sure going to lose my mind
'Cause I can't sleep for dreamin', sure can't stay woke for cryin'.

In the early 1950s, Alan Lomax told John Cohen that Rev. Gary Davis' oral history had been documented. Cohen later wrote that it was not accounted for among Lomax's papers; quite true, as the project had been carried out by his wife, Elizabeth Lyttleton Harold, who recorded interviews with Davis at his home, resulting in a 300+ page typescript. Her field work reveals a blind, Black master musician in dire poverty (well before his discovery) freely opening up to his new acquaintance- a White scholar whose empathy and probing questioning earned Davis' confidence.
She writes (11 April 1951):

"There is absolutely no controlling or guiding him. He says what he pleases, when he pleases to say it, all very pontifically. I think the resemblance to the authoritative African wise man or witch doctor is striking. . . I am pleased that the fruit of our slowly ripening trust and friendship is ready to be plucked at last. Rev. Davis is a wonderful, poetic, old gentleman. He is also as bitter and grieved a ghost of human decency and dignity as ever haunted this weary strumpeted old earth."

In later years, we, his students, refrained from ever questioning him about life's traumas (especially his blindness) or of the racism that haunted his existence, as our contact centered on learning his music. Davis and his wife Annie lovingly welcomed us into their lives as family, making it unseemly to impose on their privacy. Elizabeth Lyttleton Harold's background in psychology and anthropology enabled her ability to remain involved and detached while effectively drawing out Davis' story. Their encounters would never be repeated by anyone else with such depth or breadth.

One enigmatic detail: Davis' nightmarish encounter with a 'fowl' resembles accounts of eagles interacting with American Indians in sweat lodges. It led to a spiritual awakening, told in details which few ever could access. And it is his singular experience that expands our knowledge of the plight faced by so many during a time when an even greater blindness - racism- flourished and was socially accepted as normal. Davis' wisdom and music triumphed, for he spent his last decade performing, teaching, beloved by all. We offer excerpts from this oral history in the spirit of Goethe's observation, that specific details often reveal the whole.

note: texts in parens are descriptions of Davis; those italics in parens are Harold's questions or responses.

Elizabeth: Rev. Davis has such a philosophical mind (he begins to laugh with wickedness and pride - Hah-hah-hah-hah in back of this flattering remark. He is very devilish and coy) that the hardest time I have had with him is getting him to tell me the everyday, down-to-earth things of life. (He bursts out in a great derisive high-pitched Yaaaaaaaaaaah!) He's such a complete poet. (Heh-heh-heh-heh!) It's just like pulling eye-teeth to get him to tell me things. (Haaaaaaaaaaaaa! Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!) He starts to talk in a general way about things - which is wonderful, but I have now a lot of that and I want all the details of his life. I want to know what he does with himself all the time. He's mysterious to me still. (Huh-huh-huh-huh-heh-heh!) (We both laugh loudly).
Mrs. Davis: I try to get him to stay on the same subject, try to get him to concentrate along, stay on the same subject till you finish it.

Elizabeth: Well. He has the kind of mind - he's a philosopher. He's always unwinding a thought. (Hahahahaha!) And building up a whole speculation about the world and -
Mrs. Davis: Yeah.
Elizabeth: But I cannot get him to tell me just the down to earth gritty stuff.
Rev. Davis: (Triumphant and still laughing) You remember the last time I and you had a talk together? I told you: there is some things right on the bank and on that bank was rotten. And if you mess around on the bank, where it was caved-in ground, you're subject to go under. You understand? Well. Anytime your life is involved in anything you better not mess with it - that part of the ground. Because - I want to live as long as I possibly can. Isn't that right. Some of you wants to die yet I don't care how much you pray, I don't care how much you do nothing, you want to stay here as long as God will let you stay here. And so when God call you, you can talk to God like Ezekiah and Moses talk with him. God had to let you stay hear a little while longer, if he hears you like he heard them. I ain't joking. Now there's one thing about it. You ever drew your breath a little bit? (suspires heavily). You hear that? (He does it again. . . lazy sensual enjoyment) That feels so goooood. When I get so I can't do that, the jig is up.

It takes bitter medicine to do you good. But it's a fact - I have had greater light on this experience about things, that's why nothing don't go hard with me. That's the light that substantiate me to tell anybody what to weep and cry over and what to laugh over.

My father got killed when I was small [age ten]. He was shot. He was killed in Birmingham, Alabama. We heard that the High Sheriff shot him. I don't know. Don't know. That's what I always heard. I don't know whether there was any justice done by it or no. My mother married again when we stayed there at the Calhoun Wallaces. (How did you get on with your stepfather?) He didn't do us no harm. . . then too again, he wasn't quite so good either.

(How did you feel about not having a father, and not having a mother with you all the time?) I felt horrible about it because I felt like I was throwed away. In fact, my mother never had cared as much about me as she did my younger brother. She always have thought that he was, (his voice thickens,) he was just the very thing to her. He was her heart. (Did she say that to you?) She always had shown it by the way she treated him. She always fix him up to carry him everywhere. She never was known to carry me nowhere. She carried me to church one time and she cursed all the way there and back. She didn't want to be bothered with me. She thought I ought to stay home all the time. . . She'd wish I were dead. She tell me that a heap of times. Sure. (A low, sad, half laugh). Sure. It's not what you say, it's what you show to prove it.

My father give me to my grandmother when I was a child. He felt all the time that she would be stationary enough to take care of me. . . From what I have learned of my mother since I came to be of age, she was once upon a time a rough woman. She liked a good time, just to be twisting about from one place to another. Didn't care to be bothered with no children. (Yet she bore eight children, did she?) Yeah. All of them died but we two.

So far as I know, according to the statement of my grandmother, I taken the sore eyes when I was three weeks old. And the doctors put something in my eyes cause ulcers to grow over my eyes and cause me to go blind.

Since I was a man that come up that didn't see, that perhaps if I had been a man that could see like the others, perhaps I might have been in the bushes trying to make myself escape for my life, like others. And I might have seen more than I cared to live upon. Now, what I'm trying to get you to see: a lot of people, you know, looks on a many things, and his eyes have caused them to lose their lives.

A many times where many people have been strung up on limbs in the low countries and lynched just by looking. Sometimes some men never done nothing but just look. See? I often think of that. Well, a body's eyes were made to look right enough, but sometimes it pays a man to keep his eyes closed. That's what the Scripture says. "If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out." Sometimes you see too much. Sometimes you see things you have to tell again about what you seen; and if you haven't seen it, you wouldn't have to tell nothing about it.

As long as I am here, in this present world, here, we'll have a lot of things come about to cause us to shed tears. You understand? You ain't going to laugh all the time. You ain't going to be on the mountain all the time. You gonna have your hand on your face sometimes, crying about it. You got to do everything a little until the time come for you to make your departure from here.

You hang with a thing, get attached to it, you love that first thing. The reason why you love it, cause you haven't had enough experience in the world to know what you should have come in contact with. And that first thing, you'll come to love that thing, and it may not be fit for you to love. But still you'll love it. It's all right to you because you love it. So that's what happens to all of us. We haven't all time had sense. We been crazy. In fact, we been fools. Some people hate to hear me say that, but it's the truth. There never have been a child born with all he need to come here with. No, it ain't. Might come here with good brains, but he haven't had all the developments. That's a fact. And the first beginning of your life is hard to handle anyhow. Especially when nature begin to have its exercise.

[One] song come to me when my mother was working, and she taken sick three months before she died. And this song came to me when I was lying on my bed. Came something in the room to me: I thought it was a fowl, or a chicken. It got on me, and it was heavy. I don't believe there was nothing I could find that weighed as heavy as that thing. Got upon me, almost mashed the breath out of me. And the mouth of it: had a bill mouth just like a fowl or chicken. It act just like a chicken for it jumped on the bed. And the wings of it just as white as the dripping of snow. It said "I have a message for you." I couldn't say nothing. It had done jumped up on top of me and was mashing the breath out of me. I just grabbed it and bit it, on the jaw, you understand? While I was crying [in remorse from having bitten the unknown being] it was a little boy came to me. Had hair as long as he was high. Had a French harp in his mouth and he was blowing straight up, singing this song: "I'm On My Way Back Home." (Reverend Davis, before this song came to you, did you have religion?) I had backslidden from God. The Lord called me to preach a long time ago and I just wouldn't give up. (He sings. His voice is rough with grief. Tears pour down his face.)

(Reverend Davis, was that a dream you had of the child who gave you this song?) It didn't appear to me as a dream. It didn't appear to me as a vision, just like I was natural[ly] awake, just like I am right now. (Where were you?) I were lying down on the bed. (At your house?) At my home that my mother had prepared for me to stay at while she was working at that time. She was working at a factory, a [to]bacco factory, stemming 'bacco. All of them died but me and my mother. My brother had done got killed. My father had been dead for years. (It seemed that this child actually came to you?) Came to me just as natural as I hear you speaking right now. Not a bit different.

It might [be] very distressing for you to hear me say but it [the 'fowl'] got on me. When I bit it, it got off of me. It was starting to leave me. When I commenced to crying it wouldn't leave me. I felt sorry after I bit it. I broke down after I bit it. (Did you cry?) I reckon I did! Shouldn't ask me did I cry! Oh shucks, look to me like I tried to wash myself away. I felt it had come to me as a message to tell me something of where I had left off in the starting of a life of Christianity. I had been called as a minister and I didn't want to, there were things that had caused me to be careless. And the thing come to tell me it had a message. I never did receive the message, but the moment that I had surrendered I broke down in tears. And I put my fingers in the prints where my teeth had went into the jaws of the thing. The more I touch it the more I wept. I felt so sorry that I did it. (He breaks down and cries.)

We shouldn't be so quick to use our own things to fight ourselves out. You don't know what you might run up against. And then you don't even know what you fighting. First look before you shoot. Sometimes you hurt your best friend. Wouldn't have done it for nothing in the world.

We've got too many rubbish-head people. You know what I'm talking about, cruel people. Rubbish-head. (mutters) Lord, should I say that? (throws back his head, closes his eyes and prays:) Jesus, I won't never say it till you give me a sign. (A wait. Evidently Jesus gives him a sign.) Jesus, I thank you. (begins:)

Rich man, he always think himself above such poor people. Still that rich man will stick to his own kind. Bible said, Out of one blood brought all nations. God has no respect of persons. For the respect of all persons on earth. We are not dogs. Why should someone take you out and kill you like a chicken? No law for a dog in Virginia, South Carolina, and North Carolina than for a colored person. Now. Hear what I think. Let's love one another. I mean the godly love, If they electrocute me about a white woman, let's electrocute the white man over a colored woman. I'm in favor of the electric chair.

A white man in Greenville, N.C. called a twelve-year-old colored girl to wash out some dirty clothes for him. He put his gun in her face and split her wide open. The white folks knowed he did it. They got that boy away from there. It never came to no conclusion that I knowed about. (high falsetto scream) What could her people do? Nothing. If your dog bites somebody else, you'll try to compromise it some way. If he bites you, you'll kill your own dog. See what I'm talking about? That's a parable.

We belong to the white people. If we fool with a white woman, they'll kill us. We ain't got no law. We belong to them.

It was a long time 'fore I got myself tamed to white women. If I just brush up against one, I was looking for somebody to lynch me. I went in a store in Greenville, South Carolina, on Burnish Street, into the company store to buy a sack of flour. I couldn't see the woman. She had eyes. She could've got out of my way. The storekeeper said, "My God, you're walking up against that white woman." I just tell you truth I didn't know nothing I was so scared. I said "Mister, I can't see." "My God, you ought to be careful." That's what he said. I forgot what I came in that store to buy. I forgot I was hungry. I went home, thought I had done eat. I felt like I had come close to getting killed. I stopped in there to buy a sack of flour and I like to got killed.

Always buy my flour every Saturday. I like not to went to church less somebody would preach my funeral. You say it's terrible. Well, you're one. You ain't got the strength and power. You want a dust of flour. "Well," you say, "I wish I could let you have it, but I can't." Go to the man that's got a barrel of flour; he say "Ma'am, I ain't gonna let you have no flour." I say that as a parable.

I tell you, Mister, what's the matter. The wrong people has got the power. They ain't going to have nobody in them seats that ain't smart enough to chisel you out of your share. [The Welfare Board of New York City:] If they see you can't chisel, they take you out and put in somebody ain't got no mercy. You go from the Welfare to the top of the nation. What are we going to do when the head of the church is rotten? You got to kill the head before the whole can grow healthy again. That's what's making this war. Heads is rotten. Rotten people's got the money guarding it. That's what's making so many hoodlums. I hope I ain't said enough to hang me.

I'm going to tell you the only thing that will help it: All nations, all colors, has got to get together and pray. Preacher has got to hold the gun. That's what makes my lot so hard. I know what to say and yet it's death to say it. I'm leading the people so I know what to tell them, yet I know it's death to tell them. The prophets that preached back in ancient times, the old Roman soldiers burnt them. You could smell the burning flesh for miles. They burnt them for standing on the block of truth. Let not your good be evil spoken of.

Sometimes we try to help and our own people is the instrument of our dying. I could say these things to my congregation, but how long would I live? Although we promise to die with the truth, we sometimes die without ever telling it.

(What do you imagine Death looks like, Reverend Davis?)
Come to me as a deep shower of rain.
Don't know how it come to nobody else.
A dark, deep shower of rain.

I sing Christian songs, try to bring some brightness to the minds of the people about how we should do, how we should live.

(Don't you think you're an unusually wise person, Reverend Davis?)
I don't know. . . I know what I know, though, will keep me living. (Not forever though. . .Do you think that you'll go to heaven when you die?) Nobody goes there. Ain't nobody left here and went there, and sent back no news about going there. Ain't nobody went to Hell and come back and said nothing 'bout how it was neither. You want me to tell you where heaven gonna be at? Right here. Right here on this earth. After this old earth is burnt up of the ungodly nation. (What is the ungodly nation?) People that don't serve God. That don't believe, and don't confess Jesus. The Bible tells me that we'll live forever. The Bible said it's gonna be a Hereafter. It's going to be right here. (Will we be in the same form?) No. No. You won't be in this here. No. You gonna get out of this body and get in a spiritual body. Be just like God himself. (Eating, drinking, lovemaking?) No, nothing like that no more.

The weakness of man's strength and the brightness of his knowledge is what makes a man the finest of God's creatures to walk the earth. I'm all the time studying what I can do for my people. You can't do nothing for yourself unless you do it for somebody else first. You can't bake a corncake for yourself unless you bake it for somebody else. It ain't worth the effort.

In this world we have to talk a little and hush a heap.

Love is just like a vein in a spring [a drinking spring]:
Keeps you with supplements to cherish up what you have.

- Rev. Gary Davis, April-May 1951.