Ever found yourself humming that tune about "Way down yonder in the paw paw patch" and wondered why on earth it’s stuck in your brain decades after third grade? It’s one of those songs. It’s sticky.
The paw paw patch song is a strange, enduring piece of Americana that somehow survived the transition from frontier survival tool to elementary school music staple. Honestly, most people think it's just a silly nursery rhyme about picking fruit. It isn't. Not really. It’s actually a rhythmic map of a specific time in history when knowing where the fruit grew was the difference between a good winter and a very hungry one.
The Weird History of Where Oh Where is Pretty Little Susie
If you look at the lyrics, they're repetitive. Almost annoyingly so. "Where, oh where is pretty little Susie? Way down yonder in the paw paw patch." You've got the name—which changes depending on who's playing—and the location.
History buffs and ethnomusicologists, like those who contribute to the Smithsonian Folkways archives, point out that these songs weren't just for kids. They were "play-party" songs. Back in the 1800s, especially in the Appalachian regions and the Ozarks, certain religious communities banned "dancing." They thought fiddles were the "devil’s instrument."
But people still wanted to move. They wanted to socialize.
So, they invented play-parties. Since there was no "music" (instruments) and no "dancing" (specifically defined as crossing your feet), it was technically allowed. They used their voices for the beat and their feet for rhythmic walking. The paw paw patch song became a cornerstone of these gatherings. It was a courtship ritual masked as a game. You’d call out a girl's name, the group would circle up, and the "pretty little Susie" of the moment would lead the line.
It was basically Tinder for 1840, but with more dirt and better cardio.
What Exactly is a Paw Paw Anyway?
It’s kind of wild that we sing about a fruit most Americans have never actually tasted. If you go to a Kroger or a Safeway today, you aren't finding paw paws. They don't ship well. They bruise if you even look at them funny. They turn into mush within days of being picked.
The Asimina triloba is actually North America's largest edible native fruit. It looks like a bloated mango and tastes like a cross between a banana, a pineapple, and vanilla custard. George Washington famously loved them. Thomas Jefferson grew them at Monticello.
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When the song talks about "picking up paw paws, put 'em in your pocket," it's describing the literal harvest. You don't pick them off the tree like apples. You wait for them to drop. You find them on the ground. That’s why the song emphasizes "picking them up."
But here is the catch: You can’t actually put a ripe paw paw in your pocket. If you did, you’d have a sticky, custardy mess all over your trousers in five minutes. This implies the song might be talking about gathering them just before they hit peak ripeness, or it’s just a bit of lyrical whimsy that doesn't care about your laundry bill.
Why Music Teachers Love the Paw Paw Patch Song
If you walk into a Kodály-certified music classroom today, you will almost certainly hear this song. Why? Because it’s a pedagogical goldmine.
- The Scale: It’s usually sung in a major key with a very simple melodic contour.
- The Rhythm: The 2/4 or 4/4 time signature is perfect for teaching steady beat.
- The Social Factor: It gets kids moving in a "longways set"—two lines facing each other.
The game works like this: The "leader" (Susie or whoever is named) skips around the outside of the lines while everyone else claps. Then the next verse happens, and she leads the whole line behind her. It teaches spatial awareness and cooperation.
But there’s a nuance here that often gets lost. In the original folk context, the song was a way to build community. In a modern classroom, it’s often the first time a kid has to hold hands with a classmate or lead a group. It’s social-emotional learning before that was a buzzword.
Common Misconceptions About the Lyrics
People get the verses mixed up all the time. Usually, you start with the "Where, oh where" inquiry. Then you move to "Pickin' up paw paws." Some versions include a verse about "Come on, boys, let's go find her."
There is also a darker, or at least more pragmatic, interpretation. Some folklorists suggest that "the paw paw patch" was a euphemism. Being "way down yonder" in a secluded grove of trees was a great place for a couple to slip away from the watchful eyes of a chaperoned play-party. When the group sang "Where, oh where is pretty little Susie," they weren't just playing a game—they were calling her back to the group because she’d wandered off with a suitor.
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The Botanical Reality vs. The Folk Legend
We have to talk about the trees. Paw paws grow in patches because they are clonal. They send out underground runners. If you find one tree, you’ve found twenty. This is why the song specifies a "patch." It’s a biological fact.
Interestingly, the paw paw is the only member of its family (Annonaceae) that isn't tropical. Its cousins are the Custard Apple and the Soursop. This is why the flavor is so weirdly "island-y" for something growing in Ohio or West Virginia.
In the mid-20th century, we almost lost the cultural memory of the fruit entirely. As industrial agriculture took over, we prioritized fruits that could survive a 1,000-mile truck ride. The paw paw failed that test. But the song kept the name alive. It’s a linguistic fossil. People kept singing about the patch even when they had no idea what a paw paw was.
Now, we’re seeing a massive resurgence. Kentucky State University has a full-blown paw paw research program. There are paw paw festivals in Ohio that draw thousands of people. They all know the song.
How to Actually Use This Song Today
If you’re a parent or a teacher, don't just sing it. Use it as a bridge.
- Connect to Science: Talk about native plants. Explain why the fruit is green and why it turns black (it's supposed to!).
- Discuss History: Explain the "play-party" concept. Ask kids how they would have fun if phones, TV, and even the radio didn't exist.
- The Movement: Don't let them just stand there. The paw paw patch song is meant to be felt in the feet. Use the "longways set" formation. It teaches the "peel the banana" move where the leaders turn outward and everyone follows, meeting at the bottom.
The song survives because it is simple, but its roots are deep. It’s a survivor of the frontier, a remnant of religious restrictions, and a botanical lesson all wrapped in a melody that you can’t get out of your head.
Finding a Real Patch
If you want to experience the song for real, you have to go looking in late August through September. Look for large, tropical-looking leaves in the understory of hardwood forests near creeks. If you find a patch, you'll see exactly why Susie was "way down yonder." It’s shady, quiet, and smells faintly of fermenting fruit.
It’s a bit of magic.
Actionable Next Steps:
- Check your USDA zone: If you're in zones 5 through 8, you can likely grow a paw paw tree in your backyard. You'll need two for cross-pollination.
- Listen to authentic versions: Search for Jean Ritchie or Cecil Sharp’s collections. Ritchie, the "Mother of Folk," sang these songs exactly as they were performed in the Kentucky mountains for generations.
- Visit a Festival: If you're near Albany, Ohio, in September, the Ohio Pawpaw Festival is the gold standard for tasting the fruit and hearing the music in its natural habitat.
- Teach the dance properly: Use the "skip-one-way, lead-the-other" method to help children develop motor skills and rhythmic coordination.