“Wid dat Ol’ Miss Fox switch away fum de winder an’ went ter cleanin’ up de house, an’ bimeby Brer Fox went in de house hopin’ dat brekfus wuz ready; but dey wa’n’t no sign er nothin’ ter eat. Atter so long a time, Brer Fox ax when he wuz gwine ter git brekfus’. His ol’ ’oman ’low dat eatin’ brekfus’ an’ gittin’ it, too, wuz one er de fashions. Ef he ain’t follerin’ fashions, she ain’t needer. He ain’t say no mo’, but went off behin’ de house an’ had a mighty time er thinkin’ an’ scratchin’ fer fleas.
“When bedtime come, ol’ Miss Fox wuz mighty tired, an’ she ain’t a-keerin’ much ’bout fashions right den. Des ez she wuz fixin’ fer ter roll ’erse’f in de kivver, Brer Fox come in fum a hunt he’d been havin’. He fotch a weasel an’ a mink wid ’im, an’ he put um in de cubberd whar dey’d keep cool. Den he wash his face an’ han’s, an’ ’low dat he’s ready fer ter have his head tooken off fer de night, ef his ol’ ’oman’ll be so good ez ter he’p ’im.
“By dat time ol’ Miss Fox had done got over de pouts, but she ain’t got over de idee er follerin’ atter de fashions, an’ so she say she’ll be glad fer ter he’p ’im do what’s right, seein’ dat he’s so hard-headed in gin’ul. Den come de knotty part. Na’er one un um know’d what dey wuz ’bout, an’ dar dey sot an’ jowered ’bout de bes’ way fer ter git de head off. Brer Fox say dey ain’t but one way, less’n you twis’ de head off, an’ goodness knows he ain’t want nobody fer ter be twis’in’ his neck, kaze he ticklish anyhow. Dat one way wuz ter take de ax an’ cut de head off. Ol’ Miss Fox, she squall, she did, an’ hol’ up her han’s like she skeer’d.
“Brer Fox sot dar lookin’ up de chimbley. Bimeby his ol’ ’oman ’low, ‘De ax look mighty skeery, but one thing I know, an’ dat ain’t two, it ain’t gwineter hurt you ef it’s de fashion. Brer Fox kinder work his under jaw, but he ain’t sayin’ nothin’. So his ol’ ’oman went out ter de woodpile an’ got de ax, an’ den she say, ‘I’m ready, honey, whenever you is,’ an’ Brer Fox, he ’spon’, ‘I’m des ez ready now ez I ever is ter be,’ an’ wid dat she up wid de ax an’ blip! she tuck ’im right on de neck. De head come right off wid little er no trouble, an’ ol’ Miss Fox laugh an’ say ter herse’f dat she glad dey follerin’ de fashion at las’.
“Brer Fox sorter kick an’ squirm when de head fus’ come off, but his ol’ ’oman ’low dat dat wuz de sign he wuz dreamin’, an’ atter he lay right still she say he wuz havin’ a better night’s res’ dan what he’d had in a mighty long time. An’ den she happen fer ter think dat whiles her ol’ man done gone an’ got in de fashion, dar she wuz ready fer ter go ter bed wid ’er head on. She dunner how ter git ’er head off, an’ she try ter wake up her ol’ man, but it look like he wuz one er dem stubborn kinder sleepers what won’t be woken’d atter dey once drap off. She shake ’im an’ holler at ’im, but ’tain’t do no good. She can’t make ’im stir, spite er all de racket she make, an’ she hatter go ter bed wid her head on.
“She went ter bed, she did, but she ain’t sleep good, kaze she had trouble in de min’. She’d wake up an’ turn over, an’ roll an’ toss, an’ wonder what de yuther creeturs’d say ef dey know’d she wuz so far outer de fashion ez ter sleep wid ’er head on. An’ she had bad dreams; she dremp dat Brer Rabbit wuz laughin’ at ’er, an’ she start fer ter run at ’im, an’ de fust news she know’d de dogs wuz on her trail an’ gwine in full cry. ’Twuz dat a-way all night long, an’ she wuz mo’ dan thankful when mornin’ come.
“So his ol’ ’oman went out ter de woodpile an’ got de ax”
“She try ter wake up her ol’ man, but still he won’t be woke. He lay dar, he did, an’ won’t budge, an’ bimeby ol’ Miss Fox git mad an’ go off an’ leave ’im. Atter so long a time she went back ter whar he wuz layin’, an’ he wuz des like she lef’ ’im. She try ter roust ’im up, but he won’t be rousted. She holler so loud dat Brer Rabbit which he wuz gwine by, got de idee dat she wuz callin’ him, an’ he stick his head in de do’ an’ ’low, ‘Is you callin’ me, ma’am?’
“She say, ‘La! Brer Rabbit? I ain’t know you wuz anywheres aroun’. I been tryin’ fer ter wake up my ol’ man; he mo’ lazier dis mornin’ dan I ever is know ’im ter be. Ef my house wa’n’t all to’ up, I’d ax you in an’ git you ter drag ’im out an’ git ’im up.’