(Chorus)
Run, boys, run, the patrol 'll catch you,
Run, boys, run, you better get away.
Run, boys, run, the patrol 'll catch you,
Run, boys, run, you better get away.

Charley run, Charley flew,
Charley tore his shirt in two.
Charley run, Charley flew,
Charley tore his shirt in two.


Marthy run, Marthy flew,
Marthy lost her Sunday shoe.
Marthy run, Marthy flew,
Marthy lost her Sunday shoe.

Booker dashed behind the gate,
But he didn't escape that old black snake.
Booker dashed behind the gate,
But he didn't escape that old black snake.

He run to the east, he run to the west,
He run straight into a hornet's nest.
He run to the east, he run to the west,
He run straight into a hornet's nest.

But some of these days his time will come,
He'll hear the bugle and the drum,
See them armies marchin' along,
Lift his head and sing their song.






abc | midi | pdf

---

Source: Alan Lomax, The Penguin Book of American Folk Songs, Penguin, 1964

Notes:
Alan Lomax wrote:

After the Nat Turner rebellion the slave owners instituted a system of armed patrols. Any slave caught off his plantation after dark without a signed pass from his master was liable to be whipped. Since slaves often stole away to see their sweethearts or wives on other plantations, they frequently had to slip past the patrols or outrun them. So there grew up this liveliest of plantation reels, based on the Scots air Fire on the Mountain, and sung at slave dances all across the South.

Roud:
Laws:
Child: