The Slithery-Dee – Kitty
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐Winterjoy ⭐⭐⭐⭐
This month is a double feature! Since the next one is a shorty short poem, we thought we’d do both The Slithery-Dee and Aaron Kelly’s Bones. I realized today that February’s post marked exactly two years that we’ve been doing this series. Yay! It really is quite an accomplishment for two childhood friends to keep up a trek like this, even when some of the stories (and parts of the questionnaire!) are really not that exciting. But the research is fun, and it’s fun to revisit the stories that partially shaped our childhoods. Let’s begin with the first section.
The Slithery-Dee
The slithery-dee,
He came out of the sea
He ate all the others,
But he didn’t eat me.
The slithery-dee
He came out of the sea,
He ate all the others,
But he didn’t eat —-
SL-U-R-P…!
*****
I always have loved this poem. It makes me wonder.
- What are his companions?
- What is the narrator for that matter?
- What is the slithery-dee?
- Why would the narrator stay there if the slithery-dee has eaten all his friends?
This story was collected by Andrea Lagoy, and told orally to her by Jackie Lagoy, who had lived in Leominster, Massachusetts. Schwartz says that it came out of University of Massachusetts Folklore Archive, 1972, but that journal has unfortunately not been digitized. It seems that the version included in Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is the only widely available published version of the poem. This makes me wonder if this was a very, very localized piece of folklore. This theory is solidified even more when you realize that it’s the only source pointed to when searching for it.
now on to…..
Aaron Kelly’s Bones – Kitty ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Winterjoy
Aaron Kelly was dead. They bought him a coffin and had a funeral and buried him.
But that night he got out of his coffin, and he came home. His family was sitting around the fire when he walked in.
He sat down next to his widow, and he said, “What’s going on?” You all act like somebody died. Who’s dead?”
His widow said, “You are.”
“I don’t feel dead,” he said. “I feel fine.”
You don’t look fine,” his widow said. “You look dead. You’d better et back to the grave where you belong.”
“I’m not going back to the grave until I feel dead,” he said.
Since Aaron wouldn’t go back, his widow couldn’t collect his life insurance. Without that, she couldn’t pay for the coffin. And the undertaker said he would take it back.
Aaron didn’t care. He just sat by the fire rocking in a chair and warming his hands and feet. But his joint were dry and his back was stiff, and every time he moved, he creaked and cracked.
One night the best fiddler in town came to court the widow. Since Aaron was dead, the fiddler wanted to marry her. The two of them sat on one side of the fire, and Aaron sat on the other side, creaking and cracking.
“How long do we have to put up with this dead corpse?” the widow asked.
“Something must be done,” the fiddler said.
“This isn’t very jolly,” Aaron said. “Let’s dance!”
The fiddler got out his fiddle and began to play. Aaron stretched himself, shook himself, got up, took a step or two, and began to dance.
With his old bones rattling, and his yellow teeth snapping, and is bald head wagging, and his arms flip-flopping—around and around he went.
With his long legs clicking, and his kneebones knocking, he skipped and pranced around the room. How that dead man danced! But pretty soon a bone worked loose and fell to the floor.
“Look at that!” said the fiddler.
“Play faster!” said the widow.
The fiddle played faster.
Cricket-crack, down and back, the dead man went hopping, and his dry bones kept dropping—this way, that way, the pieces just kept popping.
“Play, man! Play!” cried the widow.
The fiddler fiddled, and dead Aaron danced. Then Aaron fell apart, collapsed into a pile of bones—all except his bald headbone, that grinned at the fiddler, cracked its teeth—and kept dancing.
“Look at that!” groaned the fiddler.
“Play louder!” cried the widow.
“Ho,ho!” said the headbone. “Ain’t we having fun!”
The fiddler couldn’t stand it. “Widow,” he said. “I’m going home,” and he never came back.
The family gathered up Aaron’s bones and put them back in the coffin. They mixed them up so he couldn’t fit them together. After that, Aaron stayed in his grave.
But his widow never married again. Aaron had seen to that.
*****
We haven’t talked about fairy tale types in a very long time, but for this tale, Schwartz lists this as motif E.410 (the unquiet grave).
His source story is Daid Aaron II, a short story which comes from Doctor to the Dead (1946) by John Bennett, p249-252. It was collected around the coast of South Carolina before 1943. Two black women whose names were Sarah Rutledge and Epsie Megett told Bennett the story in Gullah dialect. This was re-written in broken English by Bennett in a well-meaning, though (seen through a modern lens) cringy attempt at the Gullah language. Though now we understand this as a distinct language all its own rather than a bastardized form of broken English, they didn’t see it as such in the very early 1900s when these stories were being collected. Don’t get Bennett wrong, though. He loved these stories deeply, and was really trying to keep the “live storytelling” tone that is often lost in these old tales that were told sitting by candlelight in the dark.
At times, the following story is hard to understand because of the way Bennett wrote it out, but it’s well worth the read if you give it the time. Maybe I’ll rewrite it one day so it can be easier to read while keeping the original storytelling tone in tact.
Daid Aaron, II
Aaron Kelly dead. So dey berry ’im. Fay-ye-well, Aaron Kelly!
Dat night dem all set roun’ de fiah, hopin’ dat the dead deceased is gone whun dey berry well know Aaron Kelly ain’t got one uthly chance o’ goin’. De widder say: “Ah hopes ’e gone whuh ah spec’s ’e ain’t!” When in walk de co’pse, lookin’ dusty. Oh, my Lawdy!
He pick ’im a seat twix’ de widder an’ de lead mounah; an’ sezzee: “Wut disyuh all about. You-all ack lak some-buddy dead. Who dead?”
De widder look at ’im … she say: “Oh, my Gawd!”
Aaron say, kina fretful: “Dammit, ’oman! Ah ax you, who dead?”
“You is,” sez de widder, shakin’ lak a cold dog in a wet sack.
“Me dead?” say Aaron. “Huccum? Ah don’t feel dead.” He tell ’em ’e don’t belieb ’em, ’cuz ’e don’t feel dead.
Dem tell ’im dey yent duh cayeh how ’e feel … ’e dead.
“But,” sezzee, “Ah don’t feel dead a dam bit!”
“Orri,” dem ’spond. “Oonah don’t feel dead; but oonah look dead orri. Oonah bettah gone back tuh de grabe whuh oonah blongst.”
“No,” sezzee. “Ah ain’t gwine back to no grabe twell ah feels dead. ’Top you-all oggyment. Ain’t no use fuh oggyment. Ah ain’t gwine back to no grabe twell ah feels dead fo’ true.”
“Oh, my Gawd!” sez de widder. “How long oonah spec’ de co’pse gwine las’?” “Not so long,” say de lead. “Not in dis hot time. ’E cain’t las’ long.”
Yut, spite de widder, de wedder, de hot, de rainy, an’ all, Aaron las’. An’ ’e ain’t done one fo’m t’ing cep’ set by de cookin’ fiah wa’min’ ’e han’s an’ ’e foots, an’ chillin’ off de room. ’E des set dey, sundown an’ sunup, wa’min’ ’e han’s an’ foots.
De ’surance ’sociation won’t pay de ’surance cuz Aaron sway to Gawd ’e ain’t dead. An’ de fambly cain’ pay de coffin, cuz dem ain’t git de ’surance. An’ de undehtakeh sez ’e gwine graff de coffin effen de dead deceased won’t ockepy ’em; an’ dey’s de berry ol’ debble to pay.
De widder ’puzent dese t’ing to Aaron; but Aaron des’ say, sezzee: “Le’ me be, ’oman! Ah ain’t gwine back to no berr’in groun’ twell ah dead. Don’t oonah miss me?”
“My Gawd!” say de widder. “Miss oonah? How ah gwine miss oonah? Ah ain’t tab no chance fuh miss oonah. Oonah ain’t gone. Ah could miss oonah dat easy.”
“Ain’t oonah goin’ in mou’nin’ fuh me?” sezzee, fretful an’ grumblesome.
“Wut de use o’ me goin’ in mou’nin’, when ah ain’t lost oonah yet?” “Oonah ain’t pay no propah ’tention tuh me,” sezzee.
“Ain’t pay no propah ‘tention? Oh, my Gawd! Ain’t we took oonah out an’ berrit oonah? Ain’t de Reb’ren Rab’nel preach de funeral? Oonah t’ink us gwine berry oonah two time? Us ain’t. Quit yo’ complainin’.”
Den Aaron des’ set by de fiah, wa’min’ ‘e han’s an’ ’e foots, an’ lookin’ peevish. ’E des set by de fiah, an’ creak an’ crack. ’E j’ints dry; ’e back stiff; an’ ebry time ’e mobe ’eseff ’e crack an’ creak lak dead tree in de wind.
One night de bes’ fiddleh come a-cou’tin’ de widder. ’E sot on one side de fiah; Aaron sot tudder side, wa’min’ ’e han’s an’ foots, an’ stretchin’ ’e laigs fuh wa’m … an’ all de time creakin’ an’ crackin’.
De fiddleh him des’ wore out hearin’ ’im creak an’ crack. ’E ’sid an’ ’e ’cide sumpin otter be done. But ’sidderin’ and ’ciderin’ don’ make Sal’s baby a shirt. Bum-bye de widder say, “Hullong us gotter put up wid dis dead co’pse? Hullong us gotter wait twell ’e molder? Hullong us gotter set hyuh by us own fiah, oonah, an’ me, an’ him?”
De fiddleh ’sidder; but ’e yent ’cide. Bum-bye Aaron stretch ’eseff, an’, seezee: “Dis ain’t berry jovy. Le’s we be jovy. Le’s we dance fuh limbeh us laigs.”
So de fiddleh git out ’e fiddle an’ ‘chune ‘um. De fiddle begin fuh sing. Aaron stretch ’eseff; ’e shuk ’eseff; ’e giddup; ’e tek a step or two; him begin fuh jig, wid ’e ol’ bone a’crackin’, an’ ’e yaller teet’ a-snappin, an’ ’e bald bonehead a-wagglin’ an’ ’e ahms a flip-floppin … roun’ an’ roun’ an’ roun’.
De fiddle sing, an’ Aaron dance. Up and down de flo’ ’e dance, cuttin de buck an’ frowin’ de wing; an’ ’e bones go rattle-rattle.
’E skip an’ ’e prance, hidder an’ yander roun’ de room, ’e long shanks clockin’, an’ ’e knee bones a-knockin’ … landy Lawdy! How dat dead man dance! Pooty soon a piece fly loose, an’ fall on de flo’.
“My golly! Look at dat!” say de fiddleh.
“Play mo’ fasteh!” say de widder. De fiddleh play mo’ fasteh. De co’pse ’e creak an’ ’e crack. Ebry time ’e jump ’e crack. An’ ebry time ’e crack a piece drap on de flo’.
“Play mo’ loudeh!” say de widder.
De fiddleh play mo’ loud. An’ crickety-crack, down an’ back, de dead man go hoppin’, an’ de dry bone a droppin’, disaway, dataway, dem pieces keep poppin’. Ebry hop a dry bone drap. Ebry jump ’e shuck a bone. “Oh, my Gawd!” say de fiddleh; an’ ’e han’ shake so’s ’e cain’t sca’cely fingeh de string. “Play, man, play!” say de widder.
De fiddleh fiddle fasteh; dead Aaron dance; an’ all de time ’e dance de bone keep a-droppin’ … twell all to once ’e crumble down … ’e rib bone roll like a barrel hoop roun’ de flo’ … an’ dere dead Aaron lay, des’ a heap o’ dry bone on de flo’ … an’ all de time de bal’ headbone dance by itseff midst er de flo’, grinnin’ at de fiddleh, an’ crackin’ it’ teeth. Dat head go a-dancin’ bop, bop, bop!
“Oh, my sweet Lawd! Look at dat!” say de fiddleh.
“Play mo’ loudeh yet!” say de widder.
“Ho, ho!” say de bonehead. “Ain’t us des’ a-cuttin’ de buck!” But dat fiddleh ’e ain’t int’res’ in head wuh do like dat head do. Sezzee: “Widder, ah gotta go git me mo’ rozzum fuh ma bow!” So ’e gone fum dat house … an’ ah reckons ’e still gittin’ dat rozzum … cauze ’e didn’t come back.
Dem gadder de bone tugedder, an’ put ’em back in de grabe. But dey ben keerful fuh lay ’em all cristy-cross an’ unj’int; so’s Aaron cain’t ’cide wey dem bone go. An’, after dat, dead Aaron didn’t gie up no mo’.
But de widder stan’ widder fum dat day till yet. Dat dancin’ dead-head spile de match.
As told by Sarah Rutledge and Epsie Meggett.
Kitty
- In what environment did you read the story? On the couch next to the dog watching the Daytona 500.
- Do you remember having read this story as a kid? Absolutely! This one is a very favorite of mine!
- Analyze the actions of the characters in the story. Did they make sense? Would you have done anything differently? I think it would have been a lot more logical if the family took Aaron Kelly’s bones and poured cement over him in the grave so it would be impossible for him to get out again. The wife also doesn’t seem like she loves Aaron. Isn’t she glad he’s not dead? I mean, yeah, he’s a gross corpse (though it’s unexplained why he is so severely decomposed after only a short time in the grave), but he doesn’t seem like he’s annoying her or being rude. He’s just trying to live in his own house and have fun.
- Which was your favorite and least favorite character and why? My least favorite character are the people who never came around to date the widow again. Why? Aaron was finally gone. The favorite character was Aaron, because he didn’t feel dead, so why should he go to a grave. That would be pretty boring, I’d think. I also hated the fiddler because he knew what he was getting into when he visited the widow. Surely the story of the widow with the dead husband in the house had gotten around.
- What did you think of the storytelling style? I love stories like this. It was jaunty and I can absolutely hear a storyteller telling this live and keeping the audience engaged with a theatrical telling.
- Examine the art for the story. What are your thoughts on it? It’s one of my favorite artworks of them all. He looks hilarious and happy. Maybe everyone around him is the problem, not the fact that he’s a dead dancing person.
- Your overall rating and why: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐Fantastic story that has stuck with me forever. “Aaron Kelly was dead,” is one of the most memorable first lines in all storydom to me. “How that dead man danced!” is another line that has always stuck with me. I love this story, ok?!
Winterjoy
- In what environment did you read the story? I’ve made some big changes. I’m now in my living room! It was quite the journey but I made it.
- Do you remember having read this story as a kid? I don’t remember this one at all. Weird!
- Analyze the actions of the characters in the story. Did they make sense? Would you have done anything differently? Being Aaron Kelly, I can see the incentive to not give up on life. But then I would also appreciate the rest. He’s pretty motivated, I’ll give him that. For the widow, I believe her actions to be pretty expective. Her saying, “You don’t look fine. You look dead.”, is so hilarious. She was obviously the sensible and realistic one in the relationship. Having the fiddler over so soon might be too proactive but in those times, widows had to move on for support! This plays into her needing him back in his coffin so that she can collect. He won’t be working dead and she saw that!
- Which was your favorite and least favorite character and why? My least favorite is Aaron Kelly. He was super annoying on so many levels. Like..stop dancing. Go be dead. I thought the widow was funny. The fiddler was kind of a jerk for not returning but could you really blame him?
- What did you think of the storytelling style? It was cute and still slightly ominous at the same time. I enjoyed it.
- Examine the art for the story. What are your thoughts on it? I think it’s more playful than terribly creepy. Why are his feet so gigantic??The poem’s illustration has the creepiest little creature ever and I’m going to have nightmares.
- Your overall rating and why: ⭐⭐⭐⭐. It’s a good story and I wasn’t expecting the widow to be that deadpan so that was funny.
