It looked like fury, but we knew the belt would cover it.
Wall, we made it, and I carried it down to her and explained the urgent necessity of the belt to her. And the very next day she wore it up to our house on a errant in the mornin’. I happened to be in the kitchen, and when she come in there I see the full row of pantaloons buttons a shinin’ out all round her waist, from the size of a dollar down to a pea.
As I looked on it, I know I looked strange.
And she asked me anxiously “if I wuz sick?”
And sez I, “Yes, sick unto death.”
She wuz too lazy and shiftless to put on that belt.
Sez I pretty severe like in axent, “Dinah, why didn’t you put on that belt?”
“Foh Gord, Missy, I cleen don fo’get it.”
“Wall, what good duz it do for us to work and make you a dress, if you are too shiftless to put it on?”
“Foh Gord, Missy, I dun no; spect nobody duz.”