A rooka ta coo
A rooka ta coo
My wife is just as good as you
Good as you
Good as you
to sherbet-winged doves on the cabin roof—in spite of Ella's scissors. And rabbits; red-eyed ones, white and shy, Ella'd set in the thick sparrow grass, guarded over by Jit, the dog, to play and frolic. Sometimes, unmoved by their genetic dissimilarity, Ella'd use drastic, aggressive methods....
Sows fared prodigiously at the hands of Ella. She filled huge, fat-stinking troughs of slime for them. Ella's boars grew tusks of flint-like ivory. Vicious, stiff-haired boars who ate up the sow's young, frothed at the mouth at Jit's approach, tried to stick their snouts between Ella's legs whenever she ventured in the pen.
Under Ella's tutelage the one cow she owned streamed milk. From fat luscious udders filled skillet after skillet....
Gay, lonely girl, her bare arms yellow in the blazing February sun, the words of a West Indian madrigal issued from her lips:
Do Mistah Bee don't chase me 'way
Fo' de gals nex' do' will laugh at me
Break me han' but let me stan'
Break me han' but let me stan'....
Ella poured the water in a skillet. Guava buds in the water—honey in guava buds.
All around it was dark. Gravel assailed her feet. A moon worked its way through a welter of thick black clouds to soar untrammeled in the phosphorescent sky. Marl dust assailed Ella's unshod feet.