(Ride er ole gray hoss)—
Yaller gal’s de gal fur me—
(Ride er ole gray hoss)—
Kiss her under de Mulberry tree—
(Ride er ole gray hoss)—
O my, nigger, don’t you see
Better cum ter Tennessee!’
“I tell you, boss, dey kin preach all dey please agin good licker an’ de famblys it busts up, but I’ve knowed menny a man to git a drink jes in time ter keep outen a divorcement. I don’t see how sum men cu’d lib wid de wives dey got ef dey cud’nt tak a drink an’ furgit dey mizz’ry now an’ den! Wal, in erbout three moons it was my time to hab a house-buildin’ an’ I was mighty proud ob de job. Dinah was kinder dissociated kase she’d sat her h’art on de fus’ baby bein’ yaller. Er ’oman, ob course, ain’t got no reason fur enny thing—dey jes’ goes by instinct, I reckin—an’ de onlies’ reason she had for spectin’ an’ wantin’ a yaller baby was dat she was allers mighty fond ob sorrel hosses an’ she natur’ly hoped her fust child ’ud be a sorrel. It cum black, of course—jes’ lak me, an’ arter I opened his mouth an’ seed he hed one tooth already cum an’ ernudder comin’ an’ wus reddy fur eatin’ de fus’ day, I knowed he wus Bre’r Washingtun up ter the thu’d an’ fo’th jinerashun. But Dinah she tuck it mighty hard an’ lowed she’d nurver git over he’s not bein’ a sorrel wid black p’ints!
“I say he was black, but did yo urver see a right young nigger? A buzzard, you kno’, is hatched white an’ turns black, an’ so er nigger is bohn red an’ turns black. It’s funny but it’s so. A simon-p’wore nigger when bohn is red with a leetle bunch of woolly h’ar on his head, an’ five holes in his face, de two leetle ones in de center bein’ whar his nose gwineter be. Dey ain’t no mistakin’ his mouth, fur dat’s de bigges’ part of his vizerbles, an’ in jineral lang’widge you mout say it curls up on de north an’ is bounded by hes h’ar, an’ curls down on de south an’ is bounded by his belly-ban’. He’s red, ’ceptin’ de skin of his head, which is sorter yaller, but on the thu’d day he gin ter turn black jes’ above de eyes, and in a few weeks he’s all black ’ceptin’ de bottom of his hands an’ feet, his wottles an’ hock fethers, de tip ob his stomach an’ de spot whar he sets on all day.
“Wal, arter de cabin was put up an’ de sun had set, de big stew wus sarved wid apple brandy an’ den, Lord, de fun sho’ started! Course I c’u’dn’t be in it much—de dancin’ an’ juberlashun under de trees—case I was de keeper ob de lams, it bein’ my house-raisin’ an’ my fus-bohn. Now de keeper ob de lams is dis: de wimmin folks allers bring dey babies along ter de dance an’ de house-raisin’ an’ when de house is up an’ de floor laid an’ night cums an’ de games begins, de babies is all suckled an’ laid out, ebry one on his own sheepskin, on de flo’ of de new house fur ter go to sleep, an’ de daddy ob de new-bohn kid is called de keeper ob de lams an’ must set dar an’ watch ’em an’ nuss ’em whilst de yudders eat an’ play. It’s hard, but it’s de onwritten law, an’ de objec’ am to give de new daddy a lesson in pashents an’ nussin’ an’ keerin’ fur chilluns.