Bert Swor, the minstrel man, is something more than a mere black-faced comedian. He was born and reared in a Texas town and he probably knows as much about the true delineation of certain negro types as any living man.
One of his most popular wheezes is a rendition of something which a colored man at Fort Worth said years ago. Two negroes were talking together. As Swor passed by he gathered that the subject under discussion was the relative fleetness of foot of the pair. One of them said:
“You claims you is fast! You says you’s so fast folks calls you Speedy! Jest how fast is you, nigger?”
“I’ll tell you how fast I is,” said the other. “De room whar I sleeps nights is got jest one ’lectric light in it w’ich dat ’lectric light is forty feet frum de baid. W’en I gits undressed I kin walk over to dat ’lectric light and turn it out and git back into baid and be all covered up befo’ de room gits dark.”
§ 149 There Would Be Three in All
Out on the Pacific Coast, where the Japanese question and the prospect of a war with Japan are ever-living issues, a group of the hands at a canning factory were spending part of their lunch hour discussing these vital questions. Sitting on a packing case was a lank Oregonian munching the last bites of his sandwich and taking no part in the discussion. The foreman addressed him.
“Look a-here, Jeff,” said the foreman. “How do you feel about it? If the Japs were to land an invading army in this country I suppose you’d go to the front, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I’d go,” said Jeff. “Me and two others that I knows of.”
“What two others?” inquired the foreman.
“Why, the two that’ll drag me there,” said Jeff.