A Death in the Family - James Agee [35]
He was amused and pleased. Once he got started singing, he always loved to sing. There were ever so many of the old songs that he knew, which he liked best, and also some of the popular songs; and although he would have been embarrassed if he had been made conscious of it, he also enjoyed the sound of his own voice. “Ain’t you asleep yet?” he said, but even the child felt there was no danger of his leaving, and shook his head quite frankly.
“Sing gallon, ” he said, for he liked the amusement he knew would come into his father’s face, though he did not understand it. It came, and he struck up the song, still more quietly because it was a fast, sassy tune that would be likely to wake you up. He was amused because his son had always mistaken the word “gal and” for “gallon, ” and because his wife and to a less extent her relatives were not entirely amused by his amusement. They felt, he knew, that he was not a man to take the word “gallon” so purely as a joke; not that the drinking had been any sort of problem, for a long time now. He sang:
I got a gallon an a sugarbabe too, my honey, my baby,
I got a gallon an a sugarbabe too, my honey, my sweet thing.
I got a gallon an a sugarbabe too,
Gal don’t love me but my sugarbabe do
This mornin,
This evenin,
So soon.
When they kill a chicken, she saves me the wing, my honey, my baby,
When they kill a chicken, she saves me the wing, my honey, my sweet thing,
When they kill a chicken, she saves me the wing, my honey Think I’m aworkin ain’t adoin a thing
This mornin,
This evenin,
So soon.
Every night about a half past eight, my honey, my baby,
Every night about a half past eight, my honey, my sweet thing
Every night about a half past eight, my honey
Ya find me awaitin at the white folks’ gate
This mornin,
This evenin,
So soon.
The child still stared up at him; because there was so little light or perhaps because he was so sleepy, his eyes seemed very dark, although the father knew they were nearly as light as his own. He took his hand away and blew the moisture dry on the child’s forehead, smoothed his hair away, and put his hand back:
What in the world you doin, Google Eyes? he sang, very slowly, while he and the child looked at each other,
What in the world you doin, Google Eyes?
What in the world you doin, Google Eyes?
What in the world you doin, Google Eyes?
His eyes slowly closed, sprang open, almost in alarm, closed again.
Where did you get them great big Google Eyes?
Where did you get them great big Google Eyes?
You’re the best there is and I need you in my biz,
Where in the world did you get them Google Eyes?
He waited. He took his hand away. The child’s eyes opened and he felt as if he had been caught at something. He touched the forehead again, more lightly. “Go to sleep, honey, ”he said. “Go on to sleep now. ” The child continued to look up at him and a tune came unexpectedly into his head, and lifting his voice almost to tenor he sang, almost inaudibly:
Oh, I hear them train car wheels arumblin,
Ann, they’re mighty near at hand,
I hear that train come arumblin,
Come arumblin through the land.
Git on board, little children,
Git on board, little children,
Git on board, little children,
There’s room for many and more.
To the child it looked as if his father were gazing off into a great distance and, looking up into these eyes which looked so far away, he too looked far away:
Oh, I