(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. 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.