Bypaths in Dixie: Folk Tales of the SouthCocke, Sarah Johnson
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Bypaths in Dixie: Folk Tales of the South
Cocke, Sarah Johnson
African Americans -- Folklore; Short stories; Southern States -- Fiction; Tales -- Southern States
"'Caze, son, he nuv'r want ter make no tracks, so fokes kin fine out his
biznes'.--Nor, suh, he swing hisse'f by dat spid'r web er his'n tell he
come ter Mist'r Inch Wurm's house. Inch Wurm's old lady say, 'Yond'r come
dat old Grab-All Spid'r, yer bett'r take keer how yer fools wid 'im.'
"Jes' den Grab-All th'ow his hat on de flo' an' bow low down ter Miss Inch
Wurm an' sez he, 'I jes' come ter tell yo' ole man whar dar's er sight er
money waitin' fur somebody ter come 'long an' pick up.'
"Ole lady Inch Wurm sort'r take notice, she do, an' ax 'im ter pass de
news erlong. Grab-All say: 'Nor, you jes' set right still tell me an' yo'
ole man come back an' fetch yer er hat full er money.'
"Old lady Inch Wurm git up an' g'long down town, an' start ter spindin'
dat money right den. Soon es she done out'n de way, Grab-All tell Inch
Wurm 'bout de cid'r in de pan b'hime de ash-hopp'r; an', sez he, 'we'll
make de Hawnits an' Yall'r Jackits fight derse'fs ter death, den me an'
you'll 'vide de cid'r, dat is ef you kin mea'jer off how much dey is in de
pan 'thout lettin' fokes know whut you doin'.'
"Yer see Grab-All sich er big biznes' man dat he bleege ter know how big
de pan is, an' how much's in dar, down ter de ve'y drap. So Inch Wurm he
put on his ole close an' went er crawlin' off ter mea'jer de cid'r, an'
'tain' long 'fo' hyah he come back ergin wid de news fur Grab-All.
Grab-All tell 'im: 'You done wurk fine, an' you done wurk quick,--in
fack,' sez he, 'you done yo' wurk s' good I gwine fix yer, so you doan
hatt'r do no mo' wurk long es you live.' Den he laf in his sleeve.
"Mammy, don't let Grab-All hurt Inch Wurm," begged Mary Van.
"Dat can't be hop'd, honey, Inch Wurm know too much 'bout Grab-All's
biznes', an' Grab-All got ter shet his mouf some way,--He take an' spin er
teenchy-weenchy lit'le web, right whar Inch Wurm got ter git out at. Inch
Wurm, he start off, feelin' pow'ful fine he do, an' 'fo' yer knows hit,
dar he wus all tangle up in Grab-All's web. Grab-All, he run 'roun' like
he tryin' ter hope 'im out, but he jes' spinnin' de web tight'r so Inch
Wurm nuv'r is ter git out no mo'.--He got ter starve ter death, 'caze he's
in Grab-All's way, an' Grab-All gwine see nobody doan come 'roun' dar ter
hope 'im neeth'r. 'Cose he doan mine Miss Lightnin' Bug passin' de time er
night wid him, 'caze she can' do nuthin' mo'en ter bright'n 'im up er
lit'le,--but he keep his eye on her, too.
"Nex' day, de fight commence! Suh, I tell yer hit wus de pepperes' fight
yer ev'r seed. Dem Hawnits fly inter dem Yall'r Jackits, tell yer can't
see de groun' fur de dead Jackits; but hyah come de Jackits back at de
Hawnits! Lawdee! dey come wid der foots, an' der han's, an' der haids all
tergeth'r.--Yas, suh, dey come er buttin' an' er bitin' an' er stingin'
mouty nigh at de same time! Yas, my Lawd, de dead Jackits wus kiv'r'd up
wid de dead Hawnits! Oh! I tell yer dem varmints fit like sho' nuf war
times!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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