A Banjo Song
Oh, dere 's lots o' keer an' troubleIn dis world to swaller down;An' ol' Sorrer 's purty livelyIn her way o' gittin' roun'.Yet dere's times when I furgit em,--Aches an' pains an' troubles all,--An' it's when I tek at ebenin'My ol' banjo f'om de wall.
'Bout de time dat night is fallin'An' my daily wu'k is done,An' above de shady hilltopsI kin see de settin' sun;When de quiet, restful shaddersIs beginnin' jes' to fall,--Den I take de little banjoF'om its place upon de wall.
Den my fam'ly gadders roun' meIn de fadin' o' de light,Ez I strike de strings to try 'emEf dey all is tuned er-right.An' it seems we 're so nigh heabenWe kin hyeah de angels singWhen de music o' dat banjoSets my cabin all er-ring.
An' my wife an' all de othahs,--Male an' female, small an' big,--Even up to gray-haired granny,Seem jes' boun' to do a jig;'Twell I change de style o' music,Change de movement an' de time,An' de ringin' little banjoPlays an ol' hea't-feelin' hime.
An' somehow my th'oat gits choky,An' a lump keeps tryin' to riseLak it wan'ed to ketch de waterDat was flowin' to my eyes;An' I feel dat I could sorterKnock de socks clean off o' sinEz I hyeah my po' ol' grannyWif huh tremblin' voice jine in.
Den we all th'ow in our voicesFu' to he'p de chune out too,Lak a big camp-meetin' choiryTryin' to sing a mou'nah th'oo.An' our th'oahts let out de music,Sweet an' solemn, loud an' free,'Twell de raftahs o' my cabinEcho wif de melody.
Oh, de music o' de banjo,Quick an' deb'lish, solemn, slow,Is de greates' joy an' solaceDat a weary slave kin know!So jes' let me hyeah it ringin',Dough de chune be po' an' rough,It's a pleasure; an' de pleasuresO' dis life is few enough.
Now, de blessed little angelsUp in heaben, we are told,Don't do nothin' all dere lifetime'Ceptin' play on ha'ps o' gold.Now I think heaben 'd be mo' homelikeEf we 'd hyeah some music fallF'om a real ol'-fashioned banjo,Like dat one upon de wall.
Words in this poem
- dere v. t.
- To hurt; to harm; to injure. [AS. derian to hurt.]
- banjo n.
- A stringed musical instrument having a head and neck like the guitar, and its body like a tambourine. It has five strings, and is played with the fingers and hands.
- restful a.
- Being at rest; quiet.
- granny n.
- A grandmother; a grandam; familiarly, an old woman. Granny's bend, or Granny's knot (Naut.), a kind of insecure knot or hitch; a reef knot crossed the wrong way.
- somehow adv.
- In one way or another; in some way not yet known or designated; by some means; as, the thing must be done somehow; he lives somehow.
- choky a.
- Tending to choke or suffocate, or having power to suffocate.
- ketch n.
- An almost obsolete form of vessel, with a mainmast and a mizzenmast, -- usually from one hundred to two hundred and fifty tons burden. Bomb ketch. See under Bomb. [Prob. corrupted fr. Turk. qaiq : cf. F. caiche. Cf. Caïque.]
- sorter n.
- One who, or that which, sorts.
- solace n.
- Comfort in grief; alleviation of grief or anxiety; also, that which relieves in distress; that which cheers or consoles; relief. [OF. solas, ssoulaz, L. solacium, solatium, fr. solari to comfort, console. Cf. Console, v. t.]
- lifetime n.
- The time that life continues.
- homelike a.
- Like a home; comfortable; cheerful; cozy; friendly.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Banjo Song is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar, Project Gutenberg ebook #18338; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Paul Laurence Dunbar, A Banjo Song, in The Complete Poems (1893–1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #18338, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/dunbar-poems/a-banjo-song.html, id L00505.
Form and metre
A Banjo Song is 64 lines in 8 stanzas of 8 lines each. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.7 syllables. 15 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 39% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -----A-A trouble · down · lively · roun · em · allA · ebenin · wallA
- 2 AA-A-B-B fallinA · doneA · hilltops · sunA · shadders · fallB · banjo · wallB
- 3 -A-A-B-B me · lightA · em · rightA · heaben · singB · banjo · ringB
- 4 -A-A-B-B othahs · bigA · granny · jigA · music · timeB · banjo · himeB
- 5 -A-A-B-B choky · riseA · water · eyesA · sorter · sinB · granny · inB
- 6 -A-A---- voices · tooA · choiry · th'ooA · music · free · cabin · melody
- 7 AA-A-B-B banjoA · slowA · solace · knowA · ringin · roughB · pleasures · enoughB
- 8 -A-A-B-B angels · toldA · lifetime · goldA · homelike · fallB · banjo · wallB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against trochaic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Oh, dere 's lots o' keer an' trouble | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| In dis world to swaller down; | 7 | ······· |
| An' ol' Sorrer 's purty lively | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| In her way o' gittin' roun'. | 7 | ······· |
| Yet dere's times when I furgit em,-- | 8 | ········ |
| Aches an' pains an' troubles all,-- | 7 | ····/˘· |
| An' it's when I tek at ebenin' | 9 | ········· |
| My ol' banjo f'om de wall. | 7 | ··/···· |
| 'Bout de time dat night is fallin' | 8 | ······/˘ |
| An' my daily wu'k is done, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| An' above de shady hilltops | 8 | ····/˘/· |
| I kin see de settin' sun; | 7 | ······· |
| When de quiet, restful shadders | 8 | ··/˘/˘·· |
| Is beginnin' jes' to fall,-- | 7 | ······· |
| Den I take de little banjo | 8 | ····/˘/· |
| F'om its place upon de wall. | 7 | ······· |
| Den my fam'ly gadders roun' me | 8 | ········ |
| In de fadin' o' de light, | 7 | ······· |
| Ez I strike de strings to try 'em | 8 | ········ |
| Ef dey all is tuned er-right. | 8 | ·····˘·· |
| An' it seems we 're so nigh heaben | 9 | ········· |
| We kin hyeah de angels sing | 7 | ····/˘· |
| When de music o' dat banjo | 8 | ··/˘··/· |
| Sets my cabin all er-ring. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| An' my wife an' all de othahs,-- | 8 | ········ |
| Male an' female, small an' big,-- | 7 | ··/···· |
| Even up to gray-haired granny, | 8 | /˘····/˘ |
| Seem jes' boun' to do a jig; | 7 | ······· |
| 'Twell I change de style o' music, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Change de movement an' de time, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| An' de ringin' little banjo | 8 | ····/˘/· |
| Plays an ol' hea't-feelin' hime. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| An' somehow my th'oat gits choky, | 8 | ·/······ |
| An' a lump keeps tryin' to rise | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| Lak it wan'ed to ketch de water | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Dat was flowin' to my eyes; | 7 | ······· |
| An' I feel dat I could sorter | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Knock de socks clean off o' sin | 7 | ······· |
| Ez I hyeah my po' ol' granny | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Wif huh tremblin' voice jine in. | 7 | ······· |
| Den we all th'ow in our voices | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Fu' to he'p de chune out too, | 7 | ······· |
| Lak a big camp-meetin' choiry | 8 | ········ |
| Tryin' to sing a mou'nah th'oo. | 8 | /˘······ |
| An' our th'oahts let out de music, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Sweet an' solemn, loud an' free, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| 'Twell de raftahs o' my cabin | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Echo wif de melody. | 7 | /˘··/˘˘ |
| Oh, de music o' de banjo, | 8 | ··/˘··/· |
| Quick an' deb'lish, solemn, slow, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Is de greates' joy an' solace | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Dat a weary slave kin know! | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| So jes' let me hyeah it ringin', | 8 | ········ |
| Dough de chune be po' an' rough, | 7 | ······· |
| It's a pleasure; an' de pleasures | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| O' dis life is few enough. | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Now, de blessed little angels | 8 | ···˘/˘/˘ |
| Up in heaben, we are told, | 7 | ······· |
| Don't do nothin' all dere lifetime | 8 | ··/˘··/· |
| 'Ceptin' play on ha'ps o' gold. | 7 | ······· |
| Now I think heaben 'd be mo' homelike | 10 | ········/· |
| Ef we 'd hyeah some music fall | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| F'om a real ol'-fashioned banjo, | 8 | ····/˘/· |
| Like dat one upon de wall. | 7 | ······· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.