Teacher—Now, Rastus, you won’t forget. I know you won’t, so come speak like a nice boy.
Rastus (rubbing eyes)—I—I—don’ wan’ ter—be—SKUN!
Mrs. Hill—Poor little fellow (wipes her eyes).
Sarah Jane—Teacher, if she skuns ’im will he die?
Rastus (loudly)—Boo-hoo, I don’ wan’ ter DIE!
Mr. Judd—Now, Rastus, you speak your piece and I’ll see that your mother doesn’t touch you and I’ll give you some candy.
Rastus—All right (comes forward grinning widely, bows and speaks):
Some boys dey wants a drum er gun,
An’ some dey t’inks a sled is fun;