WATS dis yer I see, great big niggers gwine lopin roun town
wid cakes n pies fer ter sell? asked Uncle Remus recently, in his
most scornful tone.
Thats what they are doing, responded a young man; thats the
way they make a living.
Dat wat make I say wat I duzdat wat keep me grumlin wen I
goes in cullud fokes sciety. Some niggers aint gwine ter wuk
nohow, an hits flingin way time fer ter set enny chain-gang traps
fer ter ketch um.
Well, now, here! exclaimed the young man, in a dramatic tone,
what are you giving us now? Isnt it just as honest and just as
regular to sell pies as it is to do any other kind of work?
Taint dat, boss: said the old man, seeing that he was about to be
cornered; taint dat. Hits de nasness un it wat gits me.
Oh, get out!
Dats me, boss, up an down. Ef deres ruinashun ennywhar in de
known wurril, she goes in de compny uv a hongry nigger wats a
totin pies roun. Sometimes wen I git kotch wid emptiness in de
pit er de stummuck, an git ter fairly honin arter sumpin wat got
substance in it, den hit look like unto me dat I kin stan flat-footed
an make more cler money eatin pies dan I could if I wuz ter sell
de las one twixt dis an Chrismus. An de nigger wat kn trapes
round wid pies and not git in no alley-way an sample um, den Im
bleedzd ter say dat nigger out-niggers me an my famby. So dar