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"I ain' got no use fur dese yer newfangle fashions, dot's wat I tell de chillun w'en dey begin a-pesterin' me ter mah'y Eve I ain' got no use fur dem no way hit's put I ain' got no use fur dis yer struttin' up de aisle bus'ness, ner fur dis yer w'arin' er sto'-made shoes, ner fur dis yer leavin' er de hyar unwropped, needer.
'You des pay de preacher, days wat I tell 'em, 'en I'se gwine do all de mah'yin' days ter be done'; en w'en de preacher done got thoo wid me en Eve, I stood right up in de chu'ch an axed ef dey wus any udder nigger 'ooman es 'ud like ter do a little mah'yin'? 'Hit's es easy ter mah'y a dozen es ter mah'y one, I holler out." "Oh, Uncle Isam! No wonder Aunt Eve was angry.
But I gotto to tell you, you ain' tellin' the trufe to me, toe yo' old black mammy, right now. I tells you, an' I knows it, tha' hain't nary gal on earth ever done look at no man, I don't care who he wuz, 'thout thinkin' 'bout him, an' 'cidin' in her min', one way er otheh whetheh she like fer to mah'y that ther man er not!
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