(Transcribed by TurboScribe.ai. Go Unlimited to remove this message.) Night has fallen, and the moon is a
glowing golden orb in the black sky.
See how it shines on the dark back
roads of America, and on one road in
particular.
Come with us, and we'll take a walk
down the moonlit road, for the night is
waiting.
And the moon is full.
The Moonlit Road presents, episode 46, Mama Coon
Coon.
Written and told by, Veronica Bird, and Bert
Tanner.
I'll just bet, that none of you know
the story of Mama Coon Coon and the
blue waters of the bayou, do you?
I thought not.
Well, we know the story, and I think
we need to tell it to each and
every one of you, right now.
Once upon a time, the waters of the
bayou were black.
These waters were as black as ink.
Well, even though the waters of the bayou
were black, they were still full of lots
of fishes, and shrimp, and crabs.
Ooh, you're making me hungry.
And all the fishermen would go down to
the water's edge early in the morning, long
before the sun would even come above the
horizon, and they would cast their nets down
into the deep black waters of the bayou.
And it was such a wonderful sight at
the end of the day to watch those
fishermen pulling those nets out of that water,
overflowing with all those fishes, shrimp, and crabs.
Now, all the fishermen fished early in the
morning.
Well, most of them did.
With the exception of one fisherman.
Or should I say, fisherwoman.
Fisherwoman.
Now, this fisherwoman's name was?
Mama Coon Coon.
Oh, Mama Coon Coon was oh so wonderful
and so very mysterious.
And we don't know where exactly she came
from, or when she came.
We just looked up, poof, one day, and
there she was, wearing a beautiful, beautiful blue
dress.
Oh, the most beautiful blue that I had
ever seen.
And a white, clean, glow-in-the-dark
bandana tied around her head.
And whenever you saw her, she was wearing
exactly that.
Going down to the Black Bayou's edge to
catch ingredients for her seafood gumbo, which she
made every Friday night.
You see, she came to our village with
this wonderful recipe for seafood gumbo.
She would make this gumbo every Friday night.
And folks would come from miles and miles
and miles around just to taste this gumbo.
Mama Coon Coon's gumbo was so delicious, it
made you lick your lips more than once
or twice.
Well, you see, Mama Coon Coon was known
for her wonderful gumbo.
But she wasn't known for her terrible, terrible
singing.
Oh, no.
If you ever heard that woman sing, it
would be best that you hold your hands
over your ears and run the other way.
Well, you see, Mama Coon Coon, she would
fish, but she wouldn't fish like all the
other fishermen did.
Oh, no.
She only fished late at night, after everyone
else had gone to bed.
You see, it was a big secret.
You see, Mama Coon Coon's secret was she
didn't use fishing poles or fishing nets or
crab baskets to catch her crabs.
All she used to catch her crabs was
a big blue dress.
What she would do, she would open up
her refrigerator late in the midnight hour and
pull out whatever she'd have left, like an
old piece of fried chicken, and she'd tie
that to the bottom of her dress.
She'd reach back in there and pull out
grits and eggs from three or four weeks
ago and tie that to the bottom of
her dress.
You see, she said that the crabs just
loved her leftovers.
Rather, she thought they did.
Well, it happened one night, Mama Coon Coon
had to go down to the water's edge
to catch crabs for her seafood gumbo.
Now, Mama Coon Coon looked outside.
She made sure no one was watching.
She tied all that leftover bait to the
bottom of her dress, and she started out
in the black, black night, walking down to
the deep black waters of the bayou.
And you could see that beautiful blue dress
shimmering in the dark, and that glow-in
-the-dark bandana illuminating everything in her path.
Now, Mama Coon Coon would get down to
the black waters of the bayou.
She'd look down the beach and make sure
no one was watching.
And then Mama Coon Coon would walk right
out into the deep black waters.
She'd walk out until the water was about
waist high, and that dress, with all that
leftover bait on it, would just float on
top of the water.
Now, that was a sight to behold.
And she would stand there and wait for
those crabs to bite.
Well, it happened on this particular night that
Mama Coon Coon had been standing there for
hours and hours, and not one crab had
bitten the bait.
Not a while.
Now, Mama Coon Coon decided, well, I've been
standing here all this time, and not one
crab has bitten the bait.
I guess it's too dark tonight.
Maybe the crabs don't even know I'm here.
Maybe I need to do something to attract
these crabs.
Well, she tried slapping the water with her
hand, but not one crab bit the bait.
She tried calling to them, oh, crabbies, come
on, bite the bait.
But not one crab bit the bait.
Not one.
And it was then that Mama Coon Coon
decided she was going to sing to attract
these crabs.
And she started to sing.
Oh, no.
Little crabbies.
Come and climb.
Well, friends and neighbors, let me tell you
what happened then.
Everywhere you looked, people had their hands over
their ears, running, running, running as fast as
they could to get away from Mama Coon
Coon's terrible singing.
And houses were falling.
And the ground was shaking.
And dogs were barking.
And those crabs in that water of the
deep black bayou got angry.
So they reached up with their claws and
grabbed Mama Coon Coon by the nose and
pulled her down, way, way down into the
deep black waters of the bayou.
And you know what?
Mama Coon Coon has not been heard from
or seen since.
But if any of you happen to go
down to the bayou, you will notice that
the water down there is no longer black.
You see, the water down there is now
very, very blue.
The prettiest blue that I've ever seen.
And folks that live down by the way
tell me that that is not blue water
at all.
Oh, no.
They tell me that is only Mama Coon
Coon's big blue dress still floating on top
of that water.
That's what the elders told us.
They're still floating, waiting for those crabs to
bite.
And that white moon, that white moon that
you see reflecting off of that blue water.
That is no moon.
No, that is only Mama Coon Coon's big
white bandanna glowing in the dark from somewhere
deep down below.
And if any of you go down to
the bayou on any bright, bright moonlit night,
if you stand right at the water's edge,
right where the water meets the shore, if
you're very, very quiet, I guarantee you can
still hear Mama Coon Coon singing to her
crabs.
You see, she still sings, Little crabbies.
Little crabbies.
What's a girl to do?
You have pulled me in the water.
Now everything is blue.
That concludes this tale from The Moonlit Road.
Be sure to visit our website at themoonlitroad
.com to find out more about our stories
and let us know how we're doing.
The Moonlit Road is produced and directed by
Craig Dominey, recorded and soundscaped by Henry Howard
in beautiful Stone Mountain, Georgia.
Thanks for listening, and we'll see you next
time.