CLAP HANDIES Clap, clap handies, Mammie's wee, wee ain; Clap, clap handies, Daddie's comin' hame, Hame till his bonny wee bit laddie; Clap, clap handies, My wee, wee ain.

But blythe through his weepin', he'll tell me how you, His heaven-hamed mammie, was dauting his brow.

she also mammied de white chillun, whut wuz lef' mammyless.

Miss Sallie C. Miller Person interviewed: Mary Myhand, Clarksville, Arkansas Age: 85 "My mammie died when I was a little girl She had three children and our white folks took us in their house and raised us.

"After the war my mammie come back from Texas and took me over to Dover to live but my old boss told her if she would let him have me he would raise and educate me like his own children.

Your loving Mammie.

She mammied me er many er day.

[Mrs. Duncan:] "After the War was over mammie's old man did not want us with them, so he threatened to kill us.

Then my old mammie fixed us a little bundle of what few clothes we had and started us two children out to go back to the Campbell family in Albany.

Mammie gave us some powder and some matches, telling us to put a little down in the road every little while and set fire to it.

Your mammie dear Leans frail and lovely on your daddie's arm; Watching her chick, 'twixt happiness and fear, Lest he should come to harm.