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"Ole Brer Rabbit he wink at Brer Tarrypin, en Brer Tarrypin he hunch Mr. Mud-Turkle, en den Brer Rabbit he up'n 'low, he did: "'My goodness, Brer B'ar! you can't 'speck a man fer ter slip en slide de whole blessid day, kin you? I done had my fun, en now I'm a-settin' out yer lettin' my cloze dry. Hit's tu'n en tu'n about wid me en deze gents w'en dey's any fun gwine on, sezee.
De only thing I member 'bout de 'structshun time wuz sum ob de whites didn't wan' de niggers ter vote. I stays 'yer wid mah daughter. Dat ez de only support I hab since I had deze strokes en bin unable ter do fer mahse'f. Ex-Slave Stories Subject: Joseph Leonidas Star, # 133 Quebec Place, Knoxville, Tennessee
Witches is deze yer kinder fokes w'at kin drap der body en change inter a cat en a wolf en all kinder creeturs." "Papa says there ain't any witches," the little boy interrupted. "Mars John ain't live long ez I is," said Uncle Remus, by way of comment. "He ain't bin broozin' roun' all hours er de night en day.
Pete's wife Ca'line, she was a good 'oman, but she was mighty puny an' peevish; an' besides dat, she was one o' deze heah naggers, an' Pete is allus had a purty hard pull, an' I lay out ter give him a better chance. Eve'y bit o' whitewashin' he'd git ter do 'roun' town, Ca'line she'd swaller it in medicine. But she was a good 'oman, Ca'line was. Heap o' deze heah naggers is good 'omans!
He looked after her and mused. "No matter whar er 'oman is when you ax her fur money, she got ter go some whar else ter git it. Huh, but deze innercent ladies is de sort dat suits me. I doan like deze ladies dat doan blebe nuthin' you say." Mrs. Mayfield came out of the house. "Here it is," she said, giving him a piece of silver. "Thankee, ma'm.
"How was that, Uncle Remus?" asked a gentleman standing near. "Hit wuz sorter like dis, boss. Las' Chuseday, Mars John he fotch home two er deze yer Flurridy watermillions, an him an' Miss Sally sot down fer ter eat um. Mars John an' Miss Sally ain't got nuthin' dat's too good fer me, an' de fus news I know'd Miss Sally wuz a hollerin' fer Remus.
An' now, Brudder Gabe, raise er chune; an' sing hit lively, bredren; an' wile dey's singin' hit, I want yer ter come up hyear an' fill deze monahs' benches plum full. Bredren, I want monahs 'pun top er monahs dis ebenin'. Brethren I want 'em in crowds. I want 'em in droves. I want 'em laid 'pun top er one ernudder, bredren, tell yer can't see de bottumus' monahs.
"Plenty whar?" "Da plenty in Sawanny. I enty fer see no crab an' no oscher; en swimp, he no stay 'roun'. I lak some rice-bud now." "You er talkin' 'bout deze yer sparrers, w'ich dey er all head, en 'lev'm un makes one mouffle,*2 I speck," suggested Uncle Remus.
I speck I'm ez fon' er deze Nunited States ez de nex' man w'at knows dat de Buro is busted up; but long ez Remus kin stan' on his hin' legs no Mobile nigger can't flip inter dis town longer no Wes' P'int 'schushun an' boss 'roun' 'mong de cullud fokes. Dat's me, up an' down, an' I boun' dere's a nigger some'rs on de road dis blessid day dat's got dis put away in his 'membunce."
"Can't we go with you, Mammy? We'll be good, an' not laugh at 'em shoutin'." "I dunno wat yer gwine loff at 'em shoutin' fur; efn yer don't min' de loff gwine ter be turnt some er deze days, an' dem wat yer loffs at hyear, dem's de ones wat's gwine ter do de loffin' wen we gits up yon'er!
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