The fields and woodlands around the small Scotland County town of Wagram, nine miles north of Laurinburg on U.S. Highway 401, haven't changed much since John Charles McNeill roamed them as a sunburnt boy more than a hundred years ago, storing up the natural lore and imagery that would later inspire his poetry. McNeill died at an early age, but during his brief life he established himself as the foremost literary figure of the state and was hailed for many years by popular acclaim as North Carolina's unofficial poet laureate.

Before entering Wake Forest College in 1894, he studied at Whiteville Academy, clerked in a store, and taught in Georgia. At Wake Forest, McNeill was an exemplary student, contributing poems to and editing the literary journal, while taking special law courses. He was briefly on the faculties at Wake Forest and Mercer University. At the age of twenty-six, he opened a law office in Lumberton and bought an interest in the Argus, a weekly newspaper to which he contributed stories and poems, but after several years he moved his practice to Laurinburg, where he was elected for a term to the state legislature.

In 1901 the popular national magazine Youth's Companion accepted one of his poems, and the prestigious Century Magazine, over a four-year period, printed eighteen more. But it was Charlotte Observer editor Joseph P. Caldwell who allowed McNeill to follow his calling by hiring him in 1904 to write "whenever and whatever he pleases." In the "Mule Pen," as the Observer newsroom was called, he was known affectionately as "Mac," and his frequent newspaper columns over the next three years, which ran under a dozen titles, including "A Jug of All Sorts," "Songs Merry and Sad," and "Banjo and Mandolin," carried some 467 of his poems. He also wrote anecdotes, fables, reports on fires and funerals, book reviews, and covered special events in North and South Carolina. His byline became regionally famous.

"The little loves and sorrows are my song," McNeill said. Many of his poems are nostalgic evocations of a happy boyhood spent roaming the fields and woods, swimming and fishing in the Lumber River, working along the rows with white and black laborers, and attending the "old field" school. "Readers, in his day and ours, have applauded his accessibility," the late literary historian Richard Walser wrote. "No reader of his poems can doubt his admiration for the music, speech, and sagacity of the rural whites and blacks he knew so well in his youth."

In 1905, John Charles McNeill became the first winner of the Patterson Cup for literary excellence in North Carolina, his entry a manuscript of poems later published as Songs Merry and Sad. His death at the age of thirty-three at his family home in Riverton brought sorrow to his fellow North Carolinians in a way usually reserved for the passing of a beloved statesman. A year later, another collection of his verse, Lyrics from Cotton Land, was published, assuring his reputation. McNeill had considered calling this volume Possums and Persimmons, and a new collection by that title appeared in 1977, edited by Richard Walser. It's a tribute to his enduring appeal that The Pocket John Charles McNeill (St. Andrews Press, 1990) sold out. He is buried at the old Spring Hill Cemetery in Scotland County, and his birthplace near Wagram has been restored.

Poems from The Pocket John Charles McNeill
(St. Andrews Press, 1990)

Possum Time Again Oh, dip some ‘taters down in grease En fling de dogs a ‘tater apiece. Ram yo’ brogans clean er tacks, Split de splinters en fetch de ax.    It’s ‘possum time again! Catfish tender, catfish tough, We’s done et eatfish long enough. We’s tar’d er collards en white-side meat, En we’s gwine have supp’n wut’s good to eat.    It’s ‘possum time again! De pot’s gwine simmer en blubber en bile Till it gits scummed over wid ‘possum ile. But le’ ‘s don’t brag till we gits de goods. Whoop! Come along, boys! We’s off to de woods.     It’s ‘possum time again! Old Spring Hill I wonder who the children are    That troop to school these days Along the old McDuffie path    That winds through woody ways And leads into the road whereby    The neighbors go to mill. I wonder who the scholars are    At Old Spring Hill. I wonder if they play the games    We played when I was there- Round-town, low-razor, bull-pen, cat,    Base, leap-frog, hounds and hare. Perhaps the spring is choked with leaves;    Perhaps the church is gone, With all its shattered panes that told    Of wild balls thrown. Whoe’er the children are, I know    The same old noise is there: The droning whisper, afternoons    When chalk-dust fills the air, The same old fractions multiplied,    The same old cities named; Mensa, mensae is still declined,    And Spartacus declaimed. But, oh, the vines of muscadines    That cluster in those woods! Those ripe persimmons, hanging high,    Loose in their browning hoods; Those tough dwarf-apples, full of seed,    Are ready now to eat. And thorns of prickly-pear, though dead,    Are quite alert for feet. If I should go there now, those brats    Would stare into my face And whisper who that stranger was    That sauntered round the place. But, though the tow-heads knew me not,    I could have all my will Of those dear memoried childhood haunts    At old Spring Hill. Sunburnt Boys Down on the Lumbee river    Where the eddies ripple cool Your boat, I know, glides stealthily    About some shady pool. The summer’s heats have lulled asleep    The fish-hawks chattering noise, And all the swamp lies hushed about    You sunburnt boys. You see the minnow’s waves that rock    The cradled lily leaves. From a far field some farmer’s song,    Singing among his sheaves, Comes mellow to you where you sit,    Each man with boatman’s poise, There, in the shimmering water lights,    You sunburnt boys. I know your haunts: each gnarly bole    That guards the waterside, Each tuft of flags and rushes where    The river reptiles hide, Each dimpling nook wherein the bass    His eager life employs Until he dies-the captive of    You sunburnt boys. You will not-will you?-soon forget    When I was one of you, Nor love me less that time has borne    My craft to currents new; Nor shall I ever cease to share    Your hardships and your joys, Robust, rough-spoken, gentle-hearted       Sunburnt boys! On the Cape Fear Prince Charlie an’ I, we war chased owre the sea    Wi naething but conscience for glory. An’ here I drew sawrd, when the land wad be free,    An’ was whipped tae a hole as a Tory. When the Bonny Blue Flag was flung tae the breeze,    I girded mysel’ tae defend it: They warstled me down tae my hands an’ my knees    An’ flogged my auld backbane tae bend it. Sae the deil wan the fights, an’ wrang hauds the ground,    But God an’ mysel’ winna bide it. I had strength in my airm yet for many a round    An’ purpose in plenty tae guide it. I been banished an’ whipped an’ warstled an’ flogged    (I belang tae the Democrat party), But in gaein’ owre quagmires I hae na been bogged       An’ am still on my legs, hale an’ hearty!

Lyrics from Cotton Land. Charlotte, N.C.: Stone and Barringer Co., 1907.

The Pocket John Charles McNeill: Selected Poems. Edited by Grace Evelyn Gibson. Laurinburg, N.C.: St. Andrews College Press, 1990.

Possums and Persimmons: Newly Collected Poems by John Charles McNeill. Edited by Richard Walser. Wendell, N.C.: Broadfoot's Bookmark, 1977.

Songs, Merry and Sad. Charlotte, N.C.: Stone and Barringer, 1906.

Mr. McNeill contributed many poems to newspapers and other peridocals.

Adams, Agatha B. John Charles McNeill, a Biographical Sketch. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1949.

Bailey, Josiah W. "John Charles McNeill." Biographical History of North Carolina, 7, edited by Samuel A. Ashe, pp. 312-326.

Harman, Henry E. "John Charles McNeill and His Work." South Atlantic Quarterly 15 (1916): 301-308.

Henderson, Archibald. "John Charles McNeill." Wake Forest Student 27 (1907): 266-278.

Idol, Elizabeth V. "The Life and Works of John Charles McNeill." M.A. thesis, Columbia University, 1927.

"John Charles McNeill Memorial Number." Wake Forest Student. 27 (1907): 247-321.

Polk, Alice M. "John Charles McNeill, a Poet of North Carolina." M.A. thesis, Duke University, 1941.

Smith, Mary L. "John Charles McNeill." Meredith College Bulletin 19 (Jan. 1926): 3-39.

Walser, Richard. "McNeill's Poem about a Suicide: An Essay in Literary History." The Windhover 3 (Spring 1966): 78-85.

Warren, J. B. "John Charles McNeill." Trinity Archive 21 (1907): 45-53.

Links to further information:

Full Text of Songs, Merry and Sad