AS Uncle Remus was going down the street recently he was
accosted by several acquaintances.
Heyo! said one, here comes Uncle Remus. He look like he
gwine fer ter set up a bodin-house.
Several others bantered the old man, but he appeared to be in a
good humor. He was carrying a huge basket of vegetables.
How many er you boys, said he, as he put his basket down, is
done a hans turn dis day? En yit de weeks done commence. I year
talk er niggers dats got money in de bank, but I lay hit aint none
er you fellers. Whar you speck you gwineter git yo dinner, en how
you speck you gwineter git long?
Oh, we sorter knocks roun an picks up a livin, responded one.
Dats wat make I say wat I duz, said Uncle Rcmus. Fokes go
bout in de day-time an makes a livin, an you come long wen dey
er resin der bones an picks it up. I aint no han at figgers, but I lay
I kn count up right yer in de san en number up how menny days
hitil be fo youer cuppled on ter de chain-gang.
De ole mans hollern now sho, said one of the listeners, gazing
with admiration on the venerable old darkey.
I aint takin no chances bout vittles. Hits proned inter me fum de
fus dat I got ter eat, en I knows dat I got fer ter grub for wat I gits.
Hits agin de morl law fer niggers fer ter eat wen dey dont wuk,
an wen you see um pariently fattenin on ar, you kn des bet dat
ruinashuns gwine on somers. I got mustard, en poke salid, en
lams quarter in dat baskit, en me en my ole oman gwineter sample
it. Ef enny you boys git a invite you come, but ef you dont you
better stay way. I gotter muskit out dar wats used ter persidin
roun whar deys a cripple nigger. Dont you fergit dat offn yo