28 Hartley Burr Alexander 



ther the conspicuous character of the ballad is as chanson de 

 geste, and we know that the singing of exploits is as old as 

 valorous conceit. In Caedmon's day we get a glimpse of con- 

 vivial tale-telling; and if we are to credit the claimed antiquity 

 of the Welsh poems, we have obvious British ballads in the 

 Sixth Century. 



The universality of the song habit in the two main races of old 

 Britain should explain the ingrained persistence of it; yet to 

 clear some lurking doubt, I would cite late survivals of the old 

 lore. In America, at least, they are not wanting. I have seen, 

 amid yellowed papers of the late Eighteenth Century preserved 

 in a population whose literary asset was fairly circumscribed 

 by the Bible, the Farmer's Almanack and the New England 

 Primer, a carefully transcribed ballad in theme and form typi- 

 cal of the old school, — a tale of parent-combatted love, of sea- 

 faring, of murder, of ghost and retribution. And I have seen 

 ballad-making still in progress in Nebraskan countryside, as 

 doubtless it persists, despite the ubiquity of print, in remoter 

 frontiers. For a showing of quality I borrow from a friend's 

 recollection (surely an approved source!) a fragment of West- 

 ern song, the context unfortunately lost, which for tersely grim 

 humor might belong to the hey-dey of balladry. 



A red man lived down in Tennessee, — 



Mighty big Injun sure, — 

 He growed as tall as the tallest tree, 

 And he says, says he, 

 " Big Injun me, 

 Mighty big Injun sure." 



White men blazed out a road, you see ; — 



Mighty big Injun sure, — 

 He combed their hair with a knife; says he, 

 " It's combed for good — 

 Big Injun me, 

 Mighty big Inj un sure ! " 



And this eloquent bit of metaphor introduces the question 

 of poetic values, where the veriest layman has right to opinion. 



370 



