Den dey git two raps, strong an’ hahd, ’cause nobody’s fool ’nough tuh ’spect ol’ Job bein’ wheah he happy less’n he could steal er kill.
Den some trim’lin’, puny little niggah w’at won’ pass de graveyahd at night, he say: “Ax him ’bout my mammy; wheah she?” an’ den dat fool meejum go th’oo some jinnyfluxins, one rap A, two rap B, three rap C, an’ spell out er whole lot en passel uv trash w’at nobody kin dispute, an’ den dey say de sperit done answeh!
Yas, I know he tol’ erbout things some uv you-alls done, an’ w’at you thought nobody knowed, an’ you say dat proof ernough. Proof ernough! You need no proof! You guv hit yoah own se’f.
“Mist’ Job, you knows uv anything we-alls done w’at nobody else knows in dis wuhld?”
Do he know anything you-alls done? He doan’ need know; you-alls knows yoah-selves, an’ yoah feah meks yoah heaht palpehtate so foh feah dat somebody’ll know, an’ yoah body ’gins tuh quake an’ shake so dat you-all jis’ nachelly meks de little raps in yo’ agertations an’ yoah shivehin’ nervousness jis’ raps “One rap A, two rap B, three rap C,” an’ spells out de deeds you’ve done foh dat meejum in yoah feah.
You does hit yoahself, you frazzled idjits! You tells uv yoah own sin! You sits dere quakin’ in yoah shoes or wif yoah bare toes rattlin’ on de boahds, wif de trimble in you answehin’ evehy call uv dat finicky dun gal, “One rap A, two rap B, three rap C.”
Job, he mighty fine man tuh be ahbitratin’ uv you-alls fate; mighty fine man, an’ one w’at ought tuh mek betteh folkses outen you.
He wa’nt no good man on yearth; he wa’nt good foh nuffin in dis life—but he’s er mighty good wahnin’ dead, an’ I hope he stay a good wahnin’, an’ stay dead. De Lawd knows He need him foh a wahnin’. He ought tuh git some good outer Job, kaze He sho’ got none heah, foh uv all de liverashous coons w’at eveh lived he wuz de liverashousest an’ de leas’ account an’ de hahdest tuh kill.
He wuz a scand’lous niggah, Job wuz, an’ no respecteh uv pussons, an’ no regahdeh uv uthority; he didn’ keer no moah foh er man’s ufficial puhsition ner his sperityil capacity ’n nothin’.
Why, I ’membehs jis es if hit war yistiddy, how he hed de affront’ry tuh offeh me a drink uv whisky onc’t! Me, his pasture, an’ de watcheh oveh his soul. I rebuked him, my heahehs, an’ rebuked him seveahly, an’ he neveh insulted me dat way erg’in. Yas, suh! I gib him a lesson he neveh fohgot, foh I tuk de whole quaht an’ didn’t gib him er drop uv hit an’ he didn’t hev no moah.