One time, there was a blacksmith man, and this here blacksmith man, he took and stuck closer by his drink than he did by his blacksmith fire. Monday morning he'd get on a drinking spree, and all that week he'd be on a spree, and the next Monday morning he'd take a fresh start. Lawd, he mean when he drink, like he cussing up a storm and fighting mad.
One day, atter the blacksrnith bin drinking and cussing mightly, he hear a sorter rustling first. And then in walk the Bad Man, the Old Boy hisself. The Bad Man done hide his horns, and his tail, and his hoof, and he come dressed up like white folks in a fine coat and tall hat.
He took off his hat and he bow, and then he say, "Hello, Brother Blacksmith." And then he tell the blacksmith who he is, and that he done come after him.
Then the blacksmith, he begun to cry and beg, and he beg so hard and he cry so loud that the Bad Man say he make a trade with him. At the end of one year the spirit of the blacksrnith was to be his. During for that time the blacksmith must put in his hardest licks in the interests of the Bad Man.
Then, the Bad Man put a spell on the chair the blacksmith was setting in. Andn h put a spell on on his sledge-hammer so that the blacksmith could work for the Bad Man by being mean to folks.
Any man what set down in the spelled chair couldn't get up unless the blacksmith say STAND UP. Any man what pick up the sledge-hammer would have to keep on hammering with it until the blacksmith say STOP.
Then the Bad Man give the blacksmith money plenty, and off he went for a year.
The blacksmith, he decided for to have his fun. Lawd, he was mean to folks and playing tricks with the chair and sledge-hammer. The blacksmith have so much fun that he done clean forgot about his contract with the Bad Man.
One day, the blacksmith look down the road, and there he see the Bad Man coming. Then, he remembered the year was out!
When the Bad Man got in the door, the blacksmith was pounding 'way at a horse-shoe, but he wasn't so busy that he didn't ask him in. The Bad Man sort of do like he ain't got no time for to tarry, but the blacksmith say he got some little jobs that he best to finish up, and then he asked the Bad Man for to sit down a minute.
The Bad Man, he took set down, and he set in that conjured chair--and, course, there he was stuck!
Then the blacksmith, he poke fun at the Bad Man. He asked him don't he want a drink, and won’t he hitch his chair up little nearer to the fire.
The Bad Man, he was stuck. He beg and he beg, but it wasn't doing no good. The blacksmith say that he going to keep the Bad Man there 'til he promise that he let the blacksmith off one year more.
And, sure enough, the Bad Man promise that if the blacksmith say STAND UP he'd give him another year.
Then the blacksmith agreed. So the Bad Man stand up and saunter off down the big road, setting traps for to catch more sinners.
The next year it passes same like the other one.
At the appointed time year, come the Old Boy after the blacksmith, but still the blacksmith say he had some jobs that he that he best to finish up.
And he asked the Bad Man for to take hold of the sledge-hammer over there and he'd help him out. The Bad Man, he don't mind if he do it . With that he grab up the sledge-hammer, and there he was stuck again. That was the sledge-hammer the Bad Man done conjured. Whosoever took it up can’t put it down unless the blacksmith say STOP.
The Bad Man beat and beat with that sledge-hammer til up and let the blacksmith off another year.
Well, then, that year pass same as the other one. Month in and month out that blacksmith was rolling in drink.
And here come the Bad Man. The blacksmith cry and he holler, and he groan and tear his hair, but the Bad Man grab him up and cram him in a bag and tote him off with out a word.
While they was going along they come up with a pastel of folks what was having one of these here fourth of July barbecues, and the Old Boy, he allow that maybe he can get some more sinners. He lines in and he talk politics same like the other folks, til dinnertime come around, and they ask him up, which agreed with his stomach.
The Bad Man deposited his bag underneath the table alongside the other bags what the other hungry folks brung.
No sooner did the blacksmith get back on the ground than he begun to work his way out of the bag. He creep out, he did, and then he took and change the bag.
He took and tucked another bag and lay it down where this here bag was, and then he creep out of the crowd and lay low in the underbrush.
Last, when the time come for to go, the Old Boy up with his bag and slung it on his shoulder, and off he put for the Bad Place. When he got there he took and drop the bag off of his back and call up the imps, and they come a-squalling and a-capering, which I suspect they must a been hungry. Least aways they just swarmed around, hollering out: "Daddy, what you brung--daddy, what you brung?"
So then they open the bag, and low and beholds, out jump a big bull-dog, and the way he shook them little imps was a caution, and he kept on gnawing on them til the Old Boy open the gate and turn him out.
After along time, the blacksmith, he took and die, and when he go to the Good Place the man at the gate don't know who the blacksmith is. He say his name not in the Book of Life, and he can't squeeze in.
Then he go down to the Bad Place, and knock. The Old Boy, he look out, he did, and he knew the blacksmith the minute he laid eyes on him; but he shake his head and say:
"You’ll have to excuse me, Brother Blacksrnith, cause I've done had an experience long with you. You'll have go some where else if you want to raise any racket," and with that the Bad Man shut the door on the blacksmith.
And they do say, that since that day, the blacksmith been sort of having to roam betwixt the heavens and the earth, in dark nights he shine out so folks call him Jacky-my-lantern. That's what they tells me. It may be wrong or it maybe right, but that's what I hears.
copyright 2012 Myth Woodling
Comments
This tale is my rewrite of a story by Joel Chandler Harris in Uncle Remus, his songs and sayings, 1880.
"Jacky-My-Lantern" is clearly a southern USA version of the Irish folktale of "Jack-o-Lantern" and this story was popular among the Georgia rice plantations. Among folklorists, it is characterized as tale type 330, "The Smith and the Devil."
Originally, I tried to preserve the flavor of the dialect that Harris recorded this folktale. Nevertheless, someone suggested that I put up a more readable version of my retelling of this tale.
After some thought, I re-wrote it again--which can be seen above.
I still wanted to preserve the first version I had written and I put it down below. The original version by Harris is hard to read, so in my version I cheated in updating the spelling in some spots.
If you want to read the orginal Jacky-my-lantern, here is a direct link to the text.
Here is another USA version of the same tale about the Jacky-my-lantern: "Wicked John and the Devil." Interestingly, St. Peter makes an early appearence in this version disguised as a lame begger to offer "Wicked John" or "Jacky" redemption via three wishes. Instead, Jacky wastes his wishes on having a chair, sledge-hammer, and thorn bush enchanted. The Devil is tricked in a manner similar to the tale above.
Jacky-my-lantern
You nerver seen no Jacky-my-lanterns? Dat foo'ish fier, dey bigger er lightnin'-bugs. Don't be followin' dat. It a fixin' fer ter lead som'body inter dat quogmire down in de swamp.
One time, dere wuz a blacksmith man, en dish here blacksmith man, he tuck’n stuck closer by his drink dan he did by his blacksmith fier. Monday mawnin' he’d git on a drinking spree, en all dat week he'd be on a spree, en de nex' Monday mawnin' he'd take a fresh start. Lawd, he mean when he drink, like he cussin’ up a storm en fightin' mad.
One day, atter de blacksrnith bin spreein' 'roun' en cussin' might'ly, he hear a sorter rustlin' first. En den in walk de Bad Man, de Ole Boy hisse'f. De Bad Man done hide his hawns, en his tail, en his hoof, en he come dress up like w’ite fokes in a fine coat and tall hat.
He tuck off his hat en he bow, en den he say, "Hallo, Brother Blacksmith." En den he tell de blacksmith who he is, en dat he done come atter 'im.
Den de blacksmith, he gun ter cry en beg, en he beg so hard en he cry so loud dat de Bad Man say he make a trade wid 'im. At de een' er one year de sperit er de blacksrnith wuz to be his'n. Durin' er dat time de blacksmith mus' put in his hardest licks in de interess of de Bad Man.
Den, de Bad Man put a spell on the chair the blacksmith was settin' on. En he put a spell on on his sledge-hammer so that the blacksmith could work fo' de Bad Man by bein' mean to fokes.
Any man w'at set down in de spell'd chair couldn’t git up less’n de blacksmith say STAND UP. Any man w'at pick up de sledge-hammer 'ud hatter keep on hammerin' wid it until de blacksmith say STOP.
Den de Bad Man giv' de blacksmith money plenty, en off he went for a year.
De blacksmith, he decided fer ter have his fun. Lawd, he wuz mean to fokes en playin' tricks wid the chair en sledge-hammer. De blacksmith have so much fun dat he done clean forgot ’bout his contrack with the Bad Man.
One day, de blacksmith look down de road, en dar he see de Bad Man comin'. Den he remember'd de year wuz out!
W'en de Bad Man got in de door, de blacksmith wuz poundin' 'way at a hoss-shoe, but he wa'n't so bizzy dat he didn't ax 'im in. De Bad Man sorter do like he ain't got no time fer ter tarry, but de blacksmith say he got some little jobs dat he bleedzd ter finish up, en den he ax de Bad Man fer ter set down a minnit.
De Bad Man, he tuck’n set down, en he set in dat conjur'd chair--en, course, dar he wuz stuck!
Den de blacksmith, he poke fun at de Bad Man. He ax him don't he want a drink, en won’t he hitch his chair up little nigher de fier.
De Bad Man, he wuz stuck. He beg en he beg, but 'twan’t doin' no good. De blacksmith say dat he gwineter keep de Bad Man dar twil he promus dat he let de blacksmith off one year mo'.
En, sho nuff, de Bad Man promus dat ef de blacksmith say STAND UP he'd give 'im a n'er year.
Den de blacksmith agre'd. So de Bad Man stand up en sa’nter off down de big road, settin' traps fer ter ketch mo' sinners.
De nex' year hit pass same like t'er one.
At de 'pointed time yer, come de Ole Boy atter de blacksmith, but still de blacksmith say he had some jobs dat he bleedzd ter finish up.
En he ax de Bad Man fer ter take hold er de sledge-hammer o'er der en he he'p 'im out. De Bad Man, he he don't keer ef he do hit 'er. Wid dat he grab up de sledge-hammer, en dar he wuz stuck agin. That was de sledge-hammer de Bad Man done conju'd. Whosomedever tuck 'er up can’t put 'er down less'n de blacksmith say STOP.
De Bad Man beat en beat with dat sledge-hammer til up’n let de blacksmith off n’er year.
Well, den, dat year pass same ez t’er one. Month in en month out dat blacksmith wuz rollin' in drink.
En here come de Bad Man. De blacksmith cry en he holler, en he groan' en t'ar his hair, but de Bad Man grab 'im up en cram 'im in a bag en tote 'im off wid out a word.
W’iles dey wuz gwine 'long dey come up wid a passel er fokes w’at wuz havin’ wanner deze yer fourth er July barbbeques, en de Ole Boy, he 'low dat maybe he kin git some mo' sinners. He lines in en he talk politics same like t'er fokes, twel dinnertime come 'round, en dey ax 'im up, w'ich 'greed wid his stomach.
De Bad Man pozzit his bag anderneed de table 'longside de udder bags w'at de hongry folks'd brung.
No sooner did de blacksmith git back on de ground dan he 'gun ter wuk his way outer de bag. He creep out, he did, en den he tuck'n change de bag.
He tuck'n tuck a n'er bag en lay it down whar dish yer bag wuz, en den he creep outer de crowd en lay low in de underbresh.
Las', w'en de time come fer ter go, de Ole Boy up wid his bag en slung her on his shoulder, en off he put fer de Bad Place. W'en he got dar he tuck'n drap de bag off’n his back en call up de imps, en dey des come a squallin' en a caperin', w'ich I speck dey mus' a bin hongry. Leas'ways dey des swawm'd 'roan', hollerin' out: "Daddy, w'at you brung--daddy, w'at you brung?"
So den dey open de bag, en lo en beholes, out jump a big bull-dog, en de way he shuook dem little imps wuz a caution, en he kep' on guyawin' un urn twel de Ole Boy open de gate en t'un 'im out.
Atter 'long time, de blacksmith, he tuck'n die, en w'en he go ter de Good Place de man at de gate dunno who de blacksmith is. He say 'is name not in de Book of Life, en he can't squeeze in.
Den he go down ter de Bad Place, en knock. De Ole Boy, he look out, he did, en he know'd de blacksmith de minnit he laid eyes on 'im; but he shake his head en say:
"You’ll hatter skuze me, Brother Blacksrnith, kase I'd an had 'speunce 'longer you. You'll hatter go some'rs else ef you wanter raise enny racket, " en wid dat de Bad Man shut de do'r on de blacksmith.
En dey do say, dat since dat day, de blacksmith bin sorter huv'rin' t'roam 'twix' de heavens en de earth, in dark nights he shine out so fokes call 'im Jacky-my-lantun. Dat’s w’at dey tells me. Hit may be wrong er't maybe right, but dat's w'at I hears.
copyright 2012 Myth Woodling
In 1965, at age seven, I moved with my family from Florida to Maryland. When I got enrolled in school, I was sent for speech therapy, because nobody could understand my Southern dialect. Apparently, I spoke more like Elvira, the woman who had taken care of me in Florida. Elvira spoke in a strong Geechee dialect.
At different times in African American studies, some people have complained about thick Southern African American dialects sounding less educated than the mainstream Midwest American dialect, which is more widely spoken in the USA. Dialects are dialects. They don't necessarily indicate a level of education.