“‘Who—who—who pesterin’ we all?’”
With a laugh, in which Joe Maxwell heartily joined, Harbert turned his attention to calling his hogs, and the way he did this was as interesting to Joe as the story had been. He had a voice of wonderful strength and power, as penetrating and as melodious as the notes of a cornet. On a still day, when there was a little moisture in the air, Harbert could make himself heard two miles. The range over which the hogs roamed was at least a mile and a half from the pen. In calling them the negro broke into a song. It was only the refrain that the distant hogs could hear, but as it went echoing over the hills and valleys it seemed to Joe to be the very essence of melody. The song was something like this:
HOG-FEEDER S SONG.
Oh, rise up, my ladies, lissen unter me,
Gwoop! Gwoop! Gee-woop! Goo-whee!
I’m a-gwine dis night fer ter knock along er you.
Gwoop! Gwoop! Gee-woop! Goo-whoo!
Pig-goo! Pig-gee! Gee-o-whee!
Oh, de stars look bright des like dey gwineter fall,
En’way todes sundown you hear de killdee call: