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Fer mighty nigh fo' hours dey kep' up dat racket, an' des ez soon ez a little pain 'ud jump up de big un 'ud light onter it an' gobble it up, an' den de big un 'ud go sailin' roun' huntin' fer mo'. Some fokes is mighty cu'us, dough. Nex' mornin' I hear Miss Sally a laughin', an' singin' an' a w'isslin' des like dey want no watermillions raise in Flurridy.
Dey goes in, an' dar dey er tooken and dar dey hangs on twel you shakes de box, an' den dey draps out des ez fresh ez deze yer fishes w'at you git fum Savannah, an' you ain't got time fer ter look at dere gills, nudder." "Dere's a kind er limberness 'bout niggers dese days dat's mighty cu'us," remarked Uncle Remus yesterday, as he deposited a pitcher of fresh water upon the exchange table.
"Cum down ter dat, Brer Ab," said Uncle Remus, wiping his spectacles carefully, and readjusting them "cum down ter dat, an' dey ain't nuthin' dat ain't cu'us.
Look mighty cu'us dat some folks can't git useter yuther folks w'at got Fergiuny ways, but dat's Miss F'raishy up en down. Dat's her, sho! Ole Miss en ole Marster dey had Ferginny ways, en Miss F'raishy she wouldn't 'a staid in a ten-acre fiel' wid urn dat she wouldn't. Folks wa't got Ferginny ways, Miss F'raishy she call um big-bugs, en she git hostile w'en she year der name call.
"I done bin dar, Brer Remus; I done seed um wid bofe my eyes. Cullud lady what wuz intranced done woke up an' say dey ain't much time fer ter tarry. She say she meet er angel in de road, an' he p'inted straight fer de mornin' star, an' tell her fer ter prepar'. Hit look mighty cu'us, Brer Remus."
DE ole bee make de honey-comb, De young bee make de honey, De niggers make de cotton en co'n, En de w'ite folks gits de money. De raccoon he's a cu'us man, He never walk twel dark, En nuthin' never 'sturbs his mine, Twel he hear ole Bringer bark. De raccoon totes a bushy tail, De 'possum totes no ha'r, Mr. Rabbit, he come skippin' by, He ain't got none ter spar'.