{"id":118431,"date":"2017-11-22T09:00:25","date_gmt":"2017-11-22T14:00:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=118431"},"modified":"2017-11-22T16:58:19","modified_gmt":"2017-11-22T21:58:19","slug":"on-oh-susanna","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2017\/11\/22\/on-oh-susanna\/","title":{"rendered":"On \u201cOh! Susanna\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Regarding \u201cOh! Susanna,\u201d there is little point in discussing the verses nobody knows. Let us confine ourselves to the verses everybody<\/em> knows:<\/p>\n

Well, I come from Alabama with<\/span>
\na banjo on my knee<\/span>
\nI\u2019m gwine to Louisiana \u00b7<\/span>
\nmy true love for to see<\/span><\/p>\n

It rained all night, the day I left<\/span>
\nthe weather, it was dry<\/span>
\nthe sun so hot, I froze to death<\/span>
\nSusanna, don\u2019t you cry<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! Susanna! \u00b7<\/em><\/span>
\noh, don\u2019t you cry for me<\/em><\/span>
\nI come from Alabama with<\/em><\/span>
\na banjo on my knee<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

The piece is not, as I assumed all my life, an anonymous folk song. It was written by Stephen Foster in 1847, published in 1848. He also wrote \u201cCamptown Races,\u201d \u201cMy Old Kentucky Home,\u201d \u201cI Dream of Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair\u201d\u2014and pretty much every other song ever used in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.\u00a0<\/p>\n

About the transcript. I believe it would be a grave error to lay out the first two lines like this:<\/p>\n

Well, I come from Alabama<\/span>
\nwith<\/span> a banjo on my knee<\/span><\/p>\n

The \u201cwith\u201d should go up there on the first line. It physically hurts me to type it on the second. Just sing it and listen to yourself. The song-pause heave comes after\u2014not before\u2014the word \u201cwith.\u201d<\/p>\n

The immortality of the song, of course, is founded on the second stanza\u2014the deep satisfaction of saying those wrong things: It was day and it was night, it rained and it was dry, it was hot and I froze. (It\u2019s a shame the word \u201cgrateful\u201d no longer reliably means \u201ccausing<\/em> gratitude,\u201d for I want to point out that such unsaying-what-you-just-said lines of verse are always grateful<\/em> to the human mind. They mean nothing and they mean everything.)<\/p>\n

The song has other perfections; we\u2019ll get to \u2019em in a minute. First, we must acknowledge the botch, the damnable botch here:<\/p>\n

Well, I come from Alabama with<\/span>
\na banjo on my knee<\/span>
\nI\u2019m gwine to Louisiana \u00b7<\/span>
\nmy true love for to see<\/span><\/p>\n

The badness of that line is twofold. One, the syntax is twisted up charmlessly. Two, even if you un<\/em>twist it, it still contains a solid intolerable chunk of metrical padding. You don\u2019t say, \u201cI\u2019m going to Louisiana for to see my true love.\u201d No one would say that. It\u2019s \u201cI\u2019m going to Louisiana to see my true love.\u201d<\/p>\n

That \u201cfor\u201d has got to go. But everything else in those verses is quite perfect. Look at the first two lines again:<\/p>\n

Well, I come from Alabama with<\/span>
\na banjo on my knee<\/span><\/p>\n

Consider the interaction between \u201cAlabam<\/strong>a\u201d and \u201cban<\/strong>jo.\u201d Those two words are richly satisfactory, any way you look at \u2019em. They\u2019re right up there with \u201cricochet\u201d and \u201cChoctaw.\u201d And brought into conjunction<\/em> like that?\u2014the mind goes Yessss<\/em>. And even the tiny seesaw rhyme {come|from} has something to contribute …<\/p>\n

Well, I come from<\/span> Alabam<\/span>a with
\na ban<\/span>jo on my knee<\/span><\/p>\n

Another thing. Getting technical here, but have you ever noticed the run of vowel sounds in the chorus?<\/p>\n

Oh! Susanna! \u00b7<\/em><\/span>
\n oh, don\u2019t you cry for me<\/em> …<\/span><\/p>\n

Try singing it without any of the consonants:<\/p>\n

o! oo! \u00e6-uh!<\/span>
\no-o oo ai aw eeee!<\/span><\/p>\n

I know, I know. Just concentrate on what I\u2019m trying to tell you. Those lines run you through all the \u201csong\u201d vowels, right in a row. The ones they used to call long<\/em>. (I think the only MVP who\u2019s not on the field there is the vowel we pronounce \u201cay.\u201d)<\/p>\n

But, see, here is a key difference between the task of the songwriter and the task of the poet. The songwriter simply cannot afford to ignore what in Latin is called \u201cvowel quantity.\u201d Or better say: if the songwriter ignores it, the song will suck, and no one will be able to quite say why. Brambly consonant clusters have to be shunned for the same reason. The song must be singable.<\/p>\n

Consider what happens when you try to sing the following to the tune of \u201cOh! Susanna\u201d:<\/p>\n

\u200b \u200b\u266a \u266b
\nI like to see it lap the miles<\/span>
\nand lick the valleys up<\/span>
\nand stop to feed itself at tanks
\nand then prodigious step<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

around a pile of mountains<\/span>
\nand, supercilious, peer<\/span>
\nin shanties by the sides of roads,<\/span>
\nand then a quarry pare …<\/span>
\n\u266a \u266b<\/span><\/p>\n

Dickinson did not have a banjo on her knee when she wrote that. She was being a poet. Weird diction, superhuman syntax, metaphorical la-la out the wazoo\u2014these are hallmarks of the Shakespeare School of poetry. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. But a song<\/em> has to be singable.<\/p>\n

Look at a different poem, though. Dickinson could do \u201cSong School\u201d when she felt like it. Belt out the following to \u201cOh! Susanna\u201d:<\/p>\n

\u266a \u266b
\nBecause I could not stop for death,<\/span>
\nhe kindly stopped for me!<\/span>
\nThe carriage held but just ourselves<\/span>
\nand im-mor-ta-li-ty!<\/span>
\n\u266a \u266b<\/span><\/p>\n

The giveaway that she is in \u201csong mode\u201d is the word \u201cme\u201d in rhyme position. That\u2019s classic. \u201cMe\u201d and \u201cyou\u201d in rhyme position?\u2014song stuff. And then there\u2019s the seesaw semi-rhyme here:<\/p>\n

The carriage held<\/span> |<\/span> but just ourselves<\/span><\/span>
\nand immortality.<\/span><\/p>\n

Is anyone surprised to discover that all<\/em> Emily Dickinson poems can be sung to \u201cOh Susanna\u201d? That\u2019s not literally true, but pretty much. Actually, lots of things can be sung to \u201cOh! Susanna\u201d …<\/p>\n

\u266a \u266b
\nAmazing grace! how sweet the sound
\nthat saved a wretch like me!
\nI once was lost but now I\u2019m found,
\nwas blind but now I see!
\n\u266a \u266b<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u200b \u200b\u266a \u266b
\nThere must have been |<\/span> some magic in
\nthat old top hat we found!
\n\u2019Cuz when we placed it on his head
\nhe began to dance around!
\n\u266a \u266b<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u200b \u200b\u266a \u266b
\nHalf o\u2019er, half o\u2019er |<\/span> to Aberdour
\nit\u2019s fifty fadom deep!
\nand there lies guid Sir Patrick Spens
\nwi\u2019 the Scots Lords at his feet!
\n\u266a \u266b<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

We could do this all day. Obviously the question isn\u2019t whether it\u2019s possible<\/em> to sing something. It\u2019s all about whether the stuff goes down easy or not. \u201cOh! Susanna\u201d goes down very<\/em> easy.<\/p>\n

And it\u2019s not even that Stephen Foster \u201csimply had the magic touch.\u201d Google the rest of the song\u2019s lyrics and prepare to be curdled. Hello, N-word. Hello, awkward as fuck. Hello, can\u2019t even hold a candle to the good part. It\u2019s quite baffling.<\/p>\n

Speaking of baffling, I have a question. Can someone please explain to me how it is that two songs can have almost the exact same music and we don\u2019t notice it?<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how many people reading this have a banjo handy? But I\u2019m gonna need you to snatch that up for a minute. Or your guitar. Three chords, people; let\u2019s go:<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

Now compare that to:<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
\nLook, I\u2019m not a musicologist. But two loads of A-E-A-E-A over and over, with a D thrown in for the chorus\u2014that\u2019s pretty much the same song<\/em>, isn\u2019t it? Yet I would never have noticed this in a million years, except for what I can see my left hand doing when I\u2019m playing it. During my Maryland childhood, when these two songs were in very<\/em> heavy rotation\u2014but had no visual component\u2014I had no clue they were related. Zero. I also had to have it pointed out to me that \u201cTwinkle, Twinkle, Little Star\u201d and the alphabet song are the same thing. I was probably thirty. What does it mean that I had to be told<\/em> this?<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m sure I don\u2019t know. But in closing, I should like to enter into the record a version of the song I\u2019ve heard a number of times, down here in southeast Texas. I don\u2019t know if this version is popular on account of the large number of prisons down here or what. Actually, I don\u2019t even know that it\u2019s popular. I couldn\u2019t find it anywhere on Google, so I guess it\u2019s not. Anyhow, this is what I\u2019ve heard, and this is what I\u2019ve been singing:<\/p>\n

\u200b \u200b\u266a \u266b
\nWell, I stepped into the avenue
\nand said \u201cWell, bless my soul!
\nI never knew my attitude
\nwould help me make parole!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The warden came and said my name,
\na tear was in his eye!
\nSaid \u201cLook here, Son, the time has come
\nto kiss this place goodbye.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! Susanna, &c.
\n\u266a \u266b<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Anthony Madrid\u00a0lives in Victoria, Texas.\u00a0His second book is\u00a0<\/em>Try Never<\/a>\u00a0(Canarium Books, 2017)<\/em>.\u00a0He is a correspondent for the\u00a0<\/em>Daily.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/a><\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  Regarding \u201cOh! Susanna,\u201d there is little point in discussing the verses nobody knows. Let us confine ourselves to the verses everybody knows: Well, I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee I\u2019m gwine to Louisiana \u00b7 my true love for to see It rained all night, the day I left the weather, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1005,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[419],"tags":[8429,31825,21958,31826,2056,31829,31827,31824,14881,31828],"class_list":["post-118431","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arts-culture","tag-american-songbook","tag-because-i-could-not-stop-for-death","tag-bugs-bunny","tag-camptown-races","tag-emily-dickinson","tag-i-dream-of-jeanie-with-the-light-brown-hair","tag-my-old-kentucky-home","tag-oh-susanna","tag-songwriting","tag-stephen-foster"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nOn \u201cOh! 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