Bypaths in Dixie: Folk Tales of the South — John Shaqi
Bypaths in Dixie: Folk Tales of the SouthCocke, Sarah Johnson
General
Bypaths in Dixie: Folk Tales of the South
Cocke, Sarah Johnson
African Americans -- Folklore; Short stories; Southern States -- Fiction; Tales -- Southern States
"Nor, he say he want ter pass er lit'le conversation wid Sis Hen, an' Miss
Pullet, an' tell 'em, mebbe ef dey scratch hard ernuf, dey'll fine some
crum's er his but'r'd biskit."
"Why didn't Mister Rooster save 'em some?"
"Who, dat rooster?" Phyllis shook her head. "Dem wimmen hens doan git
nuthin' but whut dey scratches fur," then thoughtfully she added: "Cose
all roosters ain' 'zackly erlike. Dey's er few, but recoleck I says er
pow'ful few, dat saves mos' ev'ything fur de hens an' chickens; den der's
some uv 'em dat saves right smart fur 'em; den der's er heap uv 'em dat
leaves 'em de crum's, but de res' er de rooster men fokes doan leave 'em
nuthin', an' de po' things hatt'r scratch fur der sefs."
"Less give Sis Hen and Miss Pullet some biscuit too," Mary Van insisted.
"You think Willis's pa got ter feed all de po' scratchin' hens in dis
worl'?--well, he ain't."
"Give 'em this piece. It hasn't got any butter on it." Willis handed her
the bread.
"Lawsee," she threw up the disengaged hand and brought it down softly on
the little boy's head, "but ain't you 'zackly like all de uth'r
roosters--an' hens too fur dat matt'r--willin' ter give 'em dat ole crus'
atter you done eat all de sof but'r'd insides out'n it!"
A lusty crow sounded from the rooster in the yard.
"Mammy, what did Mister Rooster say?"
"He say 'dey's er good little boy in h-y-a-h,'" trilled Phyllis, imitating
the rooster's crow.
Willis smiled while his hands unconsciously clapped applause. Slipping
from her lap, he ran about the room flapping his arms and crowing:
"There's a good little boy in h-e-r-e, there's er good little boy in
h-e-r-e."
Mary Van started in the opposite direction: "There's a good little girl in
h-e-r-e."
"Hush, Mary Van," commanded Willis; "you can't crow, you've got to
cackle."
"I haven't neether; I can crow just as good as you. Can't I, Mammy
Phyllis?"
"Well," solemnly answered Phyllis, "it soun' mo' ladylike ter heah er hen
cackle dan ter crow, but dem wimmen hens whut wants ter heah dersefs crow
is got de right ter do it," shaking her head in resignation but
disapproval, "but I allus notice dat de roosters keeps mo' comp'ny wid
hens whut cackles, dan dem whut crows. G'long now an' cackle like er nice
lit'le hen."
[Music:
Cack-le, lack-le, lack-le, lack-le ear-ly in de
dawn-in'; Nice fresh aigs for yer brek-fus' ev-'y
mawnin'; Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck caw caw caw an' er
cock-er doo-dle doo (Cock crows............
..............) An' er cock-er doo-dle doo.]
[Illustration]
II
OLD MAN GULLY'S HANT
"Put some bread crumbs on top of the barrel, Willis, and less see if he
can peck it off," suggested Mary Van in baby treble.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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