Earlier today I was considering the use of the word “poontang” in a writing project, so I did some Googling to find out whether it has any racist connotations. (I didn’t find any strong indication that it does.) But as often happens in a deep search engine dive, I found a true gem of bawdy American folk music that I was not looking for. The Library Of Congress has a recording by African-American folk singer Jimmie Strothers, collected in 1936 while Strothers was incarcerated in the Virginia State Farm penitentiary. The song is Poontang Little, Poontang Small:

A lot of the lyrics in this recording are obscure, not only to my ear but apparently also to the ears of serious folk-music fans and collectors. The best accounting I could find of how they might go appears in this blog post:

1.Poontang little an’ poontang small,
Poontang stretches like a rubber ball

Chorus: Oh my babe, Oh my salty thing.

2. I’mma hung my poontang from the wire,
Rush come down to the hottest fire.

3.Gonna hang my poontang upon the fence,
Oh, the man come an’ git it ain’t got no sense,

4. ‘Til I’m gone, I’m gonna do my best
“I’m gon’ do a little something gonna bring me no rest”

5. Got a humpback a-little that couldn’t be beat
[He?] put a stack up on the streetcar seat

6. Oh, I b’lieve to my soul she had a lucky hand
‘Cause the lady gave her thing to the sweet-car man,

7. Poontang little and a-poontang small,
Poontang twisted like a rubber ball,

[Spoken]: …It’s all on fire.

8. Oh wire, brier, limber, lock
How many geese is in our flock

9. Oh, one flew east and a-one flew west,
One flew over the cuckoo’s nest,

10. Hung my poontang from the wire,
come down jes as hot as fire,

11. Put my dress above my knees,
I’m gonna give my poontang to who I please,

12. Oh poon I want, tang I crave,
Tang gonna carry to my lovin’ grave,

13. My man has go on to “tell-me-once
I’m gonna dup my husband till my man come,

Chorus: Oh my babe, Oh my salty thing.