“De little Rabbits, dey got out de sugar-cane,
dey did, en dey rastle wid it, en sweat over it, but
twan’t no use. Dey couldn’t broke
it. Brer Fox, he make like he ain’t watchin’,
but he keep on holler’n:
“‘Hurry up dar, Rabs! I’m a
waitin’ on you.’
“En de little Rabbits, dey hustle ‘roun’
en rastle wid it, but they couldn’t broke it.
Bimeby dey hear little bird singin’ on top er
de house, en de song w’at de little bird sing
wuz dish yer.
“‘Take yo’ toofies en gnyaw it,
Take yo’ toofies en saw it,
Saw it en yoke it,
En den you kin broke it.’
“Den de little Rabbits, dey git mighty glad,
en dey gnyawed de cane mos’ ‘fo’
’ole Brer Fox could git his legs oncrosst, en
w’en dey kyard ’im de cane, Brer Fox,
he sot dar en study how he gwineter make some mo’
skuse fer nabbin’ un um, en bimeby he git up
en git down de sifter w’at wuz hangin’
on de wall, en holler out:
“’Come yer, Rabs! Take dish yer sifter,
en run down’t de spring en fetch me some fresh
water.’
“De little Rabbits, dey run down’t de
spring, en try ter dip up de water wid de sifter,
but co’se hit all run out, en hit keep on runnin’
out, twel bimeby de little Rabbits sot down en ’gun
ter cry. Den de little bird settin’ up
in de tree he begin fer ter sing, en dish yer’s
de song w’at he sing:
“‘Sifter hol’ water same ez a tray,
Ef you fill it wid moss en dob it wid clay;
De Fox git madder de longer you stay—
Fill it wid moss en dob it wid clay.’
“Up dey jump, de little Rabbits did, en dey
fix de sifter so ’twon’t leak, en den
dey kyar de water ter ole Brer Fox. Den Brer
Fox he git mighty mad, en p’int out a great big
stick er wood, en tell de little Rabbits fer ter put
dat on de fier. De little chaps dey got ‘roun’
de wood, dey did, en dey lif’ at it so hard
twel dey could see der own sins, but de wood ain’t
budge. Den dey hear de little bird singin’,
en dish yer’s de song w’at he sing:
“‘Spit in yo’ han’s en tug
it en toll it,
En git behime it, en push it, en pole it;
Spit in yo’ han’s en r’ar back en
roll it.’
“En des ’bout de time dey got de wood
on de fier, der daddy, he come skippin’ in,
en de little bird, he flew’d away. Brer
Fox, he seed his game wuz up, en ’twan’t
long ‘fo’ he make his skuse en start fer
ter go.
“‘You better Stay en take a snack wid
me, Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.
‘Sence Brer Wolf done quite comin’ en settin’
up wid me, I gittin’ so I feels right lonesome
dese long nights,’ sezee.
“But Brer Fox, he button up his coat-collar
tight en des put out fer home. En dat w’at
you better do, honey, kaze I see Miss Sally’s
shadder sailin’ backerds en forerds ‘fo’
de winder, en de fus’ news you know she’ll
be spectin’ un you.”
“Dar wuz one season” said Uncle Remus,
pulling thoughtfully at his whiskers, “w’en
Brer Fox say to hisse’f dat he speck he better
whirl in en plant a goober-patch, en in dem days, mon,
hit wuz tech en go. De wud wern’t mo’n
out’n his mouf ‘fo’ de groun’
’uz brok’d up en de goobers ’uz planted.
Ole Brer Rabbit, he sot off en watch de motions, he
did, en he sorter shet one eye en sing to his chilluns:
