Cliff Dat's right, tell dese old mullet hear married men to mind they own business. Now, take me for instance. I'm a much-right man. (Gets up and approaches her flirtatiously) I didn't quite git yo' name straight. Yo' better tell it to me again.
Girl
My name is Bee Ethel, turned round to Jones.
Cliff
(Flirtatiously)
Yo' pretty lil ole ground angel yo'? Where did yo' come from?
Bee Ethel
Detroit. Yo' like me?
Cliff Do I lak yo'? I love yo' just lak God loves Gabriel, and dat's his best angel. Go 'head and say somethin'. I jus' love to hear yo' talk.
Bee Ethel
Gimme five dollars. I need some stockings.
Cliff Now Mama, dis ain't Gimme, Ga. Dis is Waycross. I'm just lak de cemetery. I takes in but never no put out. I ain't puttin' out nothin' but old folks eyes—and I don't do that till they's dead. Run long, mama. (The girl exits and he resumes his seat)
Cliff
Come on, Good Black, lemme wrap dis checker roun yo' neck.
Good Black
Gimme time, gimme time! Don't try to rush me.
(He begins same business of figuring
out moves and scratching his head)
(Enter two or three girls and fellows.
The girls are dressed in cool summer
dresses, but nothing elaborate)