How I Sign Mi Name

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HOW I SIGN MI NAME

By

James A. C. Elliot (1877-1961)

I’m a dashing young cutter, bote han’sum an’ strang,

     Wid no wan but myself fo suppote;

I de work inna bush now fo’ seben aers lang,

In de wildest ov t’icket remote,

Dough hardships I meet,

Dem hardships I greet,

Wit’ de mighty good-will ov a man;

For I fine in dis wo’l’ dat in spite of al’ wrang

We mus’ mek  life as bright as we kean.

Woodcutters, British Honduras (1930)

At de fus ov de aere inna Jan’werry mont’,

Just de time w’en de nort’ win’ de blow,

To de affice I gane wid me fren’ Janny Hunt,

Fe agree fo’ mi seben an’ fou’;

De smart affice man

Put pen inna mi han’,

An’ ‘e tell me fe write dong mi name;

Ses I, “Sah, I kean’t write-neber try an’ I  won’t;

You kean write it fo’ mi al’ de same.”

From me head to me foot de smart affice-man look;

An’ ‘e dress’ me like dis inna dix;

“Such a smart looking fellow can’t write in a book;

I believe you are playing some tricks.

No nonsense, young man,

Sign here, for you can,

And don’t stand there and look like a goat.”

Well, I den feel so shame dat de lang pen I took,

an'sa’, “Kose I kenn write,” an’ I wrote:

De affice-man look up ‘pan me wit’ supprise,

an’ ‘e smile w’en I geam back de pen:

“I mussy do,” tart I, “something cleber an’ wise.”

But ‘e bus’ out  a-lafing just den.

‘E hole ‘e two side,

An’ open quite wide

‘E wan mout’, an’ den ha! ha! away,

Up I stan’ dare an’ wander an’ open mi eyes,

Fo’ ‘e laf lakka jackass de bray.

W’en e’ stap ‘e hard laffing ‘e look inna mi face,

An’ ‘e tell me fe’ spellout mi name.

On de paper I look’, an’ I look’ inna space,

An’ I wander dah huddah fe’ blame,

As I neber quick answer de dixy leel man,

‘E delib’rately cal’ me a fool;

I den feel jus’ to geam de full wate ov mi han’;

But I ‘deavoured to keep myself cool;

Fo’ if I get hat,

Weddah rite ar not,

I would floor ‘im wid wan single lick.

An’ w’en adders cum in fe help, soon as dey lan’

I would sen’ dem right back wit’ a kick.

But I keep myself cool, an’ de affice-man said:

“What is this you have put in this book?

This mark looks like an ape or some other beast’s head

And the other mark looks like a hook.

Now, sir, look and see,

And quick answer me.

What the deuce were you trying to make?

Now if I were like you I would rather be dead

Than to make such a horrid mistake.”

Well, fo’ peace sake I swallah dat hebby abuse,

Fo’ I ‘tart to explain was de bes’.

I mek ans’er to ‘im de dix langwije I use’,

But now, sah, let me tell you befo’ dis ole des’,

Dot oy don’t know de XXX writing rule.

“Dot oy tole you befoh, still you fose me fe write,

An’ oy nebah lorn any in school;

But to ‘blige you I wrote, on’ you lof at de sight,

So oy tink you de bigger ole fole!”

I tell ‘im jus’ so,

An’ ‘e neber blown!

But ‘e stan’ dare an’ look inna mi face.

So I tell Janny Hunt fe comgo befo’ fight;

An’ we tu’n’ roun’ an’ lef de ole place.

I suppose dat some’ pepple t’ink cutter dah fool;

But de cutter no fool, dat I know.

Ebery man dah wan man inna ‘e place, dat’s the rule,

An’ de labah fe mek de wol’ go.

Den laf at no man,

But help al’ you kean,

Fo’ please membah we all gwine wan way.

Eberyt’ing in dis wo’l hab an’ en’, an’ de soul

Mus’ fly out ov de body wan day.