After a moment of reflection, Porgy replied: “Sense do berry well; but he can’t lift no weight.”
A big stevedore was crossing the court, his body moving easily with the panther-like flow of enormous muscular power under absolute control.
The beggar’s eyes became wistful.
“Sense gots power tuh take a t’ing atter yuh gits dere,” he said. “But he nebber puts bittle in a belly what can’t leabe he restin’ place. What I goin’ do now sence Peter gone, an’ I can’t git on de street?”
“Pray, Brudder, pray,” said the widow devoutly. “Ain’t yuh see Gawd done soffen de haht of dat yalluh buryin’ ondehtakuh attuh I done pray tuh him fuh a whole day an’ night? Gawd gots leg fuh de cripple.”
“Bless de Lord!” ejaculated the young woman.
“An’ he gots comfort fuh de widder.”
“Oh, my Jedus!” crooned Porgy, beginning to sway.
“An’ food fuh de fadderless.”
“Yes, Lord!”