{"id":16444,"date":"2015-02-28T12:38:16","date_gmt":"2015-02-28T17:38:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=16444"},"modified":"2025-01-04T12:14:18","modified_gmt":"2025-01-04T17:14:18","slug":"whats-in-a-song-goodnight-irene-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2015\/02\/whats-in-a-song-goodnight-irene-2\/","title":{"rendered":"What’s in a Song: “Goodnight, Irene” (2)"},"content":{"rendered":"

[Part 1 of this series is here<\/a>.]<\/em><\/p>\n

\"Lead<\/a>I\u2019d heard The Weavers’ “sad, wistful” closing notes of “Goodnight, Irene.” I’d forgotten about the song for thirty-some years, but then decided (I did know of<\/em> the song, after all) to make it the subject of a post here. A simple Midweek Music Break<\/em> post, at that — not a full-blown What’s in a Song<\/em> monster…<\/p>\n

And finally, after researching it some, and researching it some more, I’d actually found and listened to a recording — the first — of Lead Belly singing it for John A. Lomax in 1933.<\/p>\n

Here it is again, so you don’t have to go back to the earlier post just for it:<\/p>\n\n

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As I said at the end of Part 1, this confused the heck out of me. Far from the poignant I’ll see you in my dreams<\/em> of The Weavers’ version, the narrator sounds as though he’s threatening to get<\/em> her in his dreams. So much for the implied sigh, hmm?<\/p>\n

Luckily for me, Lomax — who called the song simply “Irene” at the time, probably because Lead Belly did — transcribed the lyrics then. The complete song which\u00a0Lead Belly eventually recorded went like this, per Lomax’s 1936 book, Negro Folk Songs as Sung by Lead Belly<\/em><\/a>:<\/p>\n

Irene<\/strong><\/p>\n

[chorus]<\/em>
\nIrene, goodnight, Irene, goodnight
\nGoodnight Irene, goodnight Irene,
\nI’ll kiss<\/strong> you in my dreams<\/p>\n

Sometimes I live in the country,
\nsometimes I live in town
\nSometimes I haves a great notion,
\nTo jump in the river and drown.<\/p>\n

Last Saturday night, I got married,
\nMe and my wife settled down
\nNow me and my wife have parted,
\nGonna take me a stroll uptown<\/p>\n

I loves Irene, God knows I do,
\nI loves her till the sea runs dry
\nAnd if Irene turns her back on me,
\nI’ll take morphine and die.<\/p>\n

Quit your rambling, quit your gambling
\nQuit your staying out late at night,
\nGo home to your wife and your family
\nSit down by the fireside bright.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I was wrong about that get<\/em>, then: kiss<\/em>, like The Weavers’ see<\/em>, is all nice and sentimental. [But see the note, below<\/a>.]<\/em><\/strong> So it was<\/em> sad and dreamy after all—<\/p>\n

But sheesh: chorus aside, the actual verses<\/em>… We’ve got a guy who seems to have casually left his wife of less than a week, for what? for the life of a rambling man, maybe sometimes living with her and sometimes alone? But he still and presumably forever will carry a torch for her — to the extent of threatening suicide (by drowning, by morphine overdose) if he ever thinks she’s given up on him…<\/p>\n

What the heck kind of song was<\/em> this, anyway?<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

It was, in short, Lead Belly<\/em>‘s song which Lomax recorded. After all, the guy had certainly had plenty of complicated experience with women:<\/p>\n