When Malindy Sings-
In Dialect and Near-Standard English

Original Poem in Dialect, by Paul Laurence Dunbar, converted into Near-Standard English by Rev. Bill McGinnis, with MP3 Audio Readings

The website PaulLaurenceDunbar.net has released a new version of Paul Laurence Dunbar's classic dialect poem, "When Malindy Sings," written in Near-Standard English, by Rev. Bill McGinnis, a student and admirer of Dunbar and owner of the website.

"This beautiful poem of Dunbar's was originally written in slavery dialect," said McGinnis. "It is perhaps his most famous and best loved poem, even though the use of Dialect has been criticized by many, as demeaning to African-Americans."

Dunbar himself greatly preferred to write in Standard English, and he complained in vain that his publishers at the time would reject his Standard English poems -- no matter how good they were -- and ask him to please submit poems in Dialect, which they would then publish eagerly.

"But it seems to me that Dunbar deliberately wrote many of his Dialect poems in such a way that they could easily be converted into Near-Standard English at a future date, when the country was ready for them," said McGinnis. "A hundred and one years have now gone past since Paul Laurence Dunbar died," said McGinnis. "And I think the country is now ready for his Dialect poems to be converted into Standard English, or something almost like Standard English. I think this is what he hoped we would do when he wrote the Dialect poems."

WHEN MALINDY SINGS

     By Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)


   Written In Dialect by Paul Laurence Dunbar and converted  into 
   Near-Standard English by Rev. Bill McGinnis

DIALECT READING

MP3 Reading (dialect) by Rev. Bill McGinnis at
http://www.paullaurencedunbar.net/whenmalindysings.mp3

NEAR-STANDARD ENGLISH READING

MP3 Reading (near-standard English) by Rev. Bill McGinnis at
http://www.paullaurencedunbar.net/whenmalindysings-std.mp3
NOTE: I misread read the word "turns," pronouncing it as "tunes." Sorry.

WHEN MALINDY SINGS


          Dialect

  G'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy--
    Put dat music book away;
  What's de use to keep on tryin'?
    Ef you practise twell you 're gray,
  You cain't sta't no notes a-flyin'
    Lak de ones dat rants and rings
  F'om de kitchen to de big woods
    When Malindy sings.


                      Near-Standard English

             Go way and quit that noise, Miss Lucy--
               Put that music book away;
             What's the use to keep on trying?
               If you practice till you're gray,
             You can't start those notes a-flying
               Like the ones that rant and ring
             From the kitchen to the big woods
               When Malindy sings.



  You ain't got de nachel o'gans
    Fu' to make de soun' come right,
  You ain't got de tu'ns an' twistin's
    Fu' to make it sweet an' light.
  Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy,
    An' I 'm tellin' you fu' true,
  When hit comes to raal right singin',
    'T ain't no easy thing to do.


             You don't have the natural organs
               For to make the sound come right,
             You don't have the turns and twistings
               For to make it sweet and light.
             Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy,
               And I'm telling you for true,
             When it comes to real right singing,
               It's no easy thing to do. 



  Easy 'nough fu' folks to hollah,
    Lookin' at de lines an' dots,
  When dey ain't no one kin sence it,
    An' de chune comes in, in spots;
  But fu' real melojous music,
    Dat jes' strikes yo' hea't and clings,
  Jes' you stan' an' listen wif me
    When Malindy sings.


             Easy enough for folks to holler,
               Looking at the lines and dots,
             When there is no one can sense it,
               And the tune comes in, in spots;
             But for real melodious music,
               That just strikes your heart and clings,
             Just you stand and listen with me
               When Malindy sings.



  Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy?
    Blessed soul, tek up de cross!
  Look hyeah, ain't you jokin', honey?
    Well, you don't know whut you los'.
  Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa'blin',
    Robins, la'ks, an' all dem things,
  Heish dey moufs an' hides dey faces
    When Malindy sings.


            Have you never heard Malindy?
              Blessed soul, take up the cross!
            Look here, aren't you joking, honey?
              Well, you don't know what you lost.
            You should hear that girl a-warbling,
              Robins, larks and all those things,
            Hush their mouths and hide their faces
              When Malindy sings.  



  Fiddlin' man jes' stop his fiddlin',
    Lay his fiddle on de she'f;
  Mockin'-bird quit tryin' to whistle,
    'Cause he jes' so shamed hisse'f.
  Folks a-playin' on de banjo
    Draps dey fingahs on de strings--
  Bless yo' soul--fu'gits to move em,
    When Malindy sings.


           Fiddling man just stops his fiddling,
             Lays his fiddle on the shelf; 
           Mocking bird quits trying to whistle,
             Cause he's just so shamed himself.
           Folks a-playing on the banjo
             Drop their fingers on the strings--
           Bless your soul--forget to move them,
             When Malindy sings.



  She jes' spreads huh mouf and hollahs,
    "Come to Jesus," twell you hyeah
  Sinnahs' tremblin' steps and voices,
    Timid-lak a-drawin' neah;
  Den she tu'ns to "Rock of Ages,"
    Simply to de cross she clings,
  An' you fin' yo' teahs a-drappin'
    When Malindy sings.


             She just spreads her mouth and hollers,
               "Come to Jesus," till you hear
             Sinners, trembling steps, and voices,
               Timid-like a-drawing near;
             Then she turns to "Rock of Ages,"
               Simply to the cross she clings,
             And you find your tears are dropping
               When Malindy sings.
          



  Who dat says dat humble praises
    Wif de Master nevah counts?
  Heish yo' mouf, I hyeah dat music,
    Ez hit rises up an' mounts--
  Floatin' by de hills an' valleys,
    Way above dis buryin' sod,
  Ez hit makes its way in glory
    To de very gates of God!


 
            Who can say that humble praises
              With the Master never count?
            Hush your mouth, I hear that music,
              As it rises up and mounts--
            Floating by the hills and valleys,
              Way above this burying sod,
            As it makes its way in glory
              To the very gates of God!



  Oh, hit's sweetah dan de music
    Of an edicated band;
  An' hit's dearah dan de battle's
    Song o' triumph in de lan'.
  It seems holier dan evenin'
    When de solemn chu'ch bell rings,
  Ez I sit an' ca'mly listen
    While Malindy sings.


           Oh, it's sweeter than the music
             Of an educated band;
           And it's dearer than the battle's
             Song of triumph in the land.
           It seems holier than evening
             When the solemn church bell rings,
           As I sit and calmly listen
             While Malindy sings.



  Towsah, stop dat ba'kin', hyeah me!
    Mandy, mek dat chile keep still;
  Don't you hyeah de echoes callin'
    F'om de valley to de hill?
  Let me listen, I can hyeah it,
    Th'oo de bresh of angels' wings,
  Sof an' sweet, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,"
    Ez Malindy sings.



          Towser, stop that barking, hear me!
            Mandy, make that child keep still;
          Don't you hear the echoes calling
            From the valley to the hill?
          Let me listen, I can hear it,
            Through the brush of angel's wings,
          Soft and sweet, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,"
            As Malindy sings.

 

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