The old darkey looked slyly at the youngster, and chuckled softly to himself. Presently he said:
“Hit wuz sorter like dis, ef I ain’t make no mistakes in de chune:
“‘Oh, says de woodpecker, peckin’ on de tree,
Once I courted Miss Kitty Killdee,
But she proved fickle en fum me fled,
En sence dat time my head bin red.’
“Brer Rabbit bin feelin’ mighty droopy en low-spereted all de mornin’, but time he year de gal singin’, he hist up his years en look sassy, en wen she stop singin’ he broke out en ’gun ter sing hisse’f. He sung dish yer kinder chune:
“‘Katy, Katy! won’t you marry?
Katy, Katy! choose me den!
Mammy say ef you will marry