“‘Look like you gwineter have chicken
fer dinner, Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.
“’Yes, Brer Rabbit, dey er nice, en fresh,
en tender, ’sez Brer Fox, sezee.
“Den Brer Rabbit sorter pull his mustarsh, en
say: ’You ain’t got no calamus root,
is you, Brer Fox? I done got so now dat I can’t
eat no chicken ‘ceppin she’s seasoned up
wid calamus root.’ En wid dat Brer Rabbit
lipt out er de do’ and dodge ’mong the
bushes, en sot dar watchin’ for Brer Fox; en
he ain’t watch long, nudder, kaze Brer Fox flung
off de flannil en crope out er de house en got whar
he could cloze in on Brer Rabbit, en bimeby Brer Rabbit
holler out: ‘Oh, Brer Fox! I’ll
des put yo’ calamus root out yer on dish yer
stump. Better come git it while hit’s fresh,’
and wid dat Brer Rabbit gallop off home. En Brer
Fox ain’t never kotch ‘im yit, en w’at’s
mo’, honey, he ain’t gwineter.”
“Didn’t the fox never catch the rabbit,
Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy the next
evening.
“He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho’s
you born—Brer Fox did. One day atter
Brer Rabbit fool ’im wid dat calamus root, Brer
Fox went ter wuk en got ’im some tar, en mix
it wid some turkentime, en fix up a contrapshun w’at
he call a Tar-Baby, en he tuck dish yer Tar-Baby en
he sot ’er in de big road, en den he lay off
in de bushes fer to see what de news wuz gwine ter
be. En he didn’t hatter wait long, nudder,
kaze bimeby here come Brer Rabbit pacin’ down
de road—lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity—dez
ez sassy ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox, he lay low.
Brer Rabbit come prancin’ ’long twel he
spy de Tar-Baby, en den he fotch up on his behime
legs like he wuz ’stonished. De Tar Baby,
she sot dar, she did, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
“‘Mawnin’!’ sez Brer Rabbit,
sezee—’nice wedder dis mawnin’,’
sezee.
“Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nuthin’,
en Brer Fox he lay low.
“‘How duz yo’ sym’tums seem
ter segashuate?’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.
“Brer Fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low,
en de Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’.
“‘How you come on, den? Is you deaf?’
sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. ‘Kaze if you is,
I kin holler louder,’ sezee.
“Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
“‘You er stuck up, dat’s w’at
you is,’ says Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘en
I’m gwine ter kyore you, dat’s w’at
I’m a gwine ter do,’ sezee.
“Brer Fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummick,
he did, but Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nothin’.
“’I’m gwine ter larn you how ter
talk ter ’spectubble folks ef hit’s de
las’ ack,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.
’Ef you don’t take off dat hat en tell
me howdy, I’m gwine ter bus’ you wide open,’
sezee.
“Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
“Brer Rabbit keep on axin’ ’im,
en de Tar-Baby, she keep on sayin’ nothin’,
twel present’y Brer Rabbit draw back wid his
fis’, he did, en blip he tuck ’er side
er de head. Right dar’s whar he broke his
merlasses jug. His fis’ stuck, en he can’t
pull loose. De tar hilt ’im. But Tar-Baby,
she stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
