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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Go long, boss! w'at you speck I be doin' sailin' 'roun' ter dese yer cullud picnics? Much mo' an' I wouldn't make bread by wukkin' fer't, let 'lone follerin' up a passel er boys an' gals all over keration. Boss, ain't you year 'bout it, sho' 'nuff?" "I haven't, really. What was the matter?" "I got strucken wid a sickness, an' she hit de ole nigger a joe- darter 'fo' she tu'n 'im loose."
You ax me ter run home, Little childun Run home, dat sun done roll An' I don't wanter stay yer no longer. Hit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-eight, Christ done make dat crooked way straight An' I don't wanter stay yer no longer; Hit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-nine, Christ done tu'n dat water inter wine An' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.
"'Twill kill dat ole man to tu'n him out dat house," said Ephraim; "he ain 'nuver stay away from dyah a hour since he come heah." "Sutny 'twill," assented his wife; then she added, in reply to the rest of the remark, "Nuver min'; den we'll see what he got in dyah." To a woman, that was at least some compensation. Ephraim's thoughts had taken a new direction.
Dey wuz mighty perlite, dem young chaps wuz; but Ole Miss, she never tu'n 'er head, en Miss Sally, she look straight at de fier. Bimeby one un um see me, en he say, sezee: "'Hello, ole man, w'at you doin' in yer? sezee. "'Well, boss, sez I, 'I bin cuttin' some wood fer Ole Miss, en I des stop fer ter worn my han's a little, sez I. "'Hit is col', dat's a fack, sezee.
When she come dat day in de school-house, an' all de chil'en looked at her so hard, she tu'n right red, an' tried to pull her long curls over her eyes, an' den put bofe de backs of her little han's in her two eyes, an' begin to cry to herse'f. Marse Chan he was settin' on de een' o' de bench nigh de do', an' he jes' reached out an' put he arm 'roun' her an' drawed her up to 'im.
Brer Rabbit make like he hurr'in' on home, but Brer Fox, he open up, he did, en he say: "'I thank you fer ter tu'n me loose, Brer Rabbit, en I'll be 'blije, sezee, ''caze you done tie me up so tight dat it make my head swim, en I don't speck I'd las' fer ter git ter Miss Meadows's, sezee.
I 'member Mis Nancy an' white folks 'ud set out thar of an evenin' an' mek us li'l cullud chullun dance an' sing an' cut capers fer to 'muse 'em. Den dey had a trough, built 'bout lak a pig trough, an' dey would mek de cook bake a gre't big slab er co'n bread an' put hit in de trough an' po' milk or lasses over hit, an' tu'n us li'l cullud chullun loose on hit.
Hit wuz a mighty good year, en de truck tu'n out monstus well, but bimeby, w'en de time come fer dividjun, hit come ter light dat ole Brer Buzzard ain't got nuthin'. De crap wuz all gone, en dey want nuthin' dar fer ter show fer it. Brer Rabbit, he make like he in a wuss fix'n Brer Buzzard, en he mope 'roun', he did, like he fear'd dey gwineter sell 'im out.
"I 'spec's, suh, dat ef I'd tu'n her 'roun', she'd go de udder way." "But we want her to go this way." "Well, suh, I 'low ef we des set heah fo' er fibe minutes, she'll sta't up by herse'f." "All right," I rejoined; "it is cooler here than any place I have struck today. We'll let her stand for a while, and see what she does."
An' dat evenin' I'se tellin' yo' 'bout, he wuz talkin', an' he mention' Miss Anne's name. I see Marse Chan tu'n he eye 'roun' on 'im an' keep it on he face, and pres'n'y Mr. Ronny said he wuz gwine hev some fun dyah yit.
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