“‘Brer Wolf, you er gittin’ mighty ga’nt, en ’t won’t be so mighty long ’fo’ we’ll batten be tuck up en put in de po’-house. W’at make dis?’ says Brer Rabbit, sezee: ‘I be bless ef I kin tell, kaze yer er all de creeturs gittin’ ga’nt w’iles all de reptules is a-gittin’ seal fat. No longer ’n yistiddy, I wuz comin’ along throo de woods, w’en who should I meet but ole Brer Snake, en he wuz dat put dat he ain’t kin skacely pull he tail ’long atter he head. I ’low ter mese’f, I did, dat dish yer country gittin’ in a mighty bad way w’en de creeturs is got ter go ’roun’ wid der ribs growin’ terge’er w’iles de reptules layin’ up in de sun des nat’ally fattenin’ on der own laziness. Yessar, dat w’at I ’lowed.’
“Brer Wolf, he say, he did, dat if de reptules wuz gittin’ de ’vantage er de creeturs dat away, dat hit wuz ’bout time fer ter clean out de reptules er leaf de country, en he ’low, fuddermo’, dat he wuz ready fur ter jine in wid de patter-rollers en drive um out.
“But Brer Rabbit, he ’low, he did, dat de bes’ way fer ter git ’long wuz ter fin’ out whar’bouts de reptules hed der smoke-’house en go in dar en git some er de vittles w’at by good rights b’long’d ter de creeturs. Brer Wolf say maybe dis de bes’ way, kaze ef de reptules git word dat de patter-rollers is a-comin’ dey ’ll take en hide de gingercakes, en der simmon beer, en der w’atzis-names, so dat de creeturs can’t git um. By dis time dey come ter de forks er de road, en Brer Rabbit he went one way, en Brer Wolf he went de yuther.
“Whar Brer Wolf went,” Uncle Remus went on, with increasing gravity, “de goodness knows, but Brer Rabbit, he went on down de road todes he own house, en w’iles he wuz lippitin’ long, nibblin’ a bite yer en a bite dar, he year a mighty kuse fuss in de woods. He lay low, Brer Rabbit did, en lissen. He look sharp, he did, en bimeby he ketch a glimp’ er ole Mr. Black Snake gwine ’long thoo de grass. Brer Rabbit, he lay low en watch ’im. Mr. Black Snake crope ’long, he did, des like he wuz greased. Brer Rabbit say ter hisse’f:
“‘Hi! dar goes one er de reptules, en ez she slips she slides ’long.’
“Yit, still he lay low en watch. Mr. Black Snake crope ’long, he did, en bimeby he come whar dey wuz a great big poplar-tree. Brer Rabbit, he crope on his belly en follow ’long atter. Mr. Black Snake tuck ’n circle all ’roun’ de tree, en den he stop en sing out:
“‘Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!
Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!’