It cum ter pars Amelikite wen’ wid Saul, an’ Saul say, “Tell it not in Gath” (I s’pose dat wuz uh army ’spression er watchword); so dey bail out de boat, paddle ’cross de ribber, an’ landed near uh tent. Da sot King Dabid on uh sycamo’ stump (sycamo’ trees wuz de fa-vo-rites in dem days; dat’s de tree dat little Zackius clum), musin’ an’ I s’pose longin’ fuh de wife ub Urihy, an’ meddowtatin’ er dotin’ on Miss Abigail, de wife ub Nabal, who wuz smut wid him, cudn’ resis’ his beauty, an’ cum ter him wid five damsels ez bridemaids, all uh straddle ub asses. I kyant gib deah names kase Samuel de fus fogot ter mention ’em. Saul open de composation, an’ speak fus by sayin’: “King Dabid, dis man kep’ comp’ny wid me crossin’ de ribber; his name Amelikite. We is bof’n us ezerters an’ tired ub wah.” Den King Dabid say, “Set down; I speck you horngry, too? Hab some kid an’ hardtack, an’ tell me de news.” Saul told him de Flistines wuz mortifyin’ de mountain, an’ ev’y man wud die befo’ dey waccinate de place. King Dabid ris up, shuck his curls, an’ say, “Ef’n it ain’ waccinated mejately I’ll cross de ribber wid uh thousan’ chariots, fifty thousan’ artil’ry, twenty thousan’ cavelry on mules, all my damsels on white jackasses, all blowin’ rams’ hohn’s, an’ de Flistin’s I don’ ’stroy I’ll teck pris’ners, throw in de ribber to de shirks dat’s bin feedin’ heah fuh two weeks on some ub meh dead mules.” Jes’ den one ub his spies cum in an’ say, “King Dabid, dat young mule yo’ son Ab-so-lum bin ridin’ hung him in uh oak tree!” Den King Dabid snort smoke fum his nose, weep an’ wep’, an’ wep’ an’ weep; jes’ ez he begin ter git pearter his fus’ wife heah Saul’s voice, so she stold ’way fum de res’ ub de wives, stood by de sycamo’ stump an’ say ter King Dabid: [9]“I look thoo uh winder lars week, saw you leapin’ an’ dancin’ befo’ de Lawd wid all yo’ might, an’ I ’spise you in my hyart!” Den King Dabid cry, grit he teeth, meddowtate, an’ made up he mind ter stop dancin’, sin no mo’ an’ jine de Babtis’ chuch; so he throw erway his swo’d an’ say, gimmy de pen, cummenc’ ter wright sweet Sams, an’ he eyes shine same ez two stars, he lubly face glo’ wid de beauty ub holiness, he call fuh he hyarp ub uh thousan’ strings, twank it—an’ lemmy read you what he sing: “De Lawd is meh shepherd; I shall not want. He meck me ter lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me ’side de still waters. He resto’eth meh soul; he leadeth me in parfs ub richtousnes fuh his name sake (mus’ ask Uncle Reubin who he name fuh). Yea, tho’ I wa’k thoo de valley ub de shadder ub death, I will feah no evil, fuh thou art wid me; thy rod an’ thy staff dey comfort me.” Den he chuned his hyarp ergin; he wep’ an’ he weep, an’ he weep an he wep’. Den he meddowtate an’ bimeby he say: “O, my son Ab-so-lum, my son, my son, Ab-so-lum!”