“Marster’s favorite dogs wuz houn’s; he lub ’em so he nebber low you ter
call uh houn’ uh dog. An’ he had seben hosses dat done nuffin but hunt
ober dem dogs; an’ dey _wuz_ hosses, fuh it tuck uh hoss ub qual’ty ter
kerry him; he wuz uh pow’ful man. Fus’ you read de Bible, hunny, boutin
de time King Dabid wuz all dress up in his new nuniform an’ whup de
Flistins, an’ den teck uh look at Ole Mars’ pictur, you sho’ly wud think
King Dabid favo’d Ole Mars, he so hainsome; an’ Mars Pinckney de ve’y
spit ub him! When Mars Nickey git on he hun’in’ close he glitter jes’
same ez uh star! Yaller wes’ (yaller wuz he favorite color), no pants
’ceppin’ ter de nees, an’ dey yaller; an’ green welwet cote—bless meh
soul an’ body, an’ meh body an’ soul, he look jes’ like King Solomon
mus’ uh look when he wen’ struttin’ arfter annurr wife. An’ when he blow
he hohn an’ you heah de houn’s moanin’ an’ Jedge Kyarmichael’s, Mars
Lloyd’s, Kun’l Winders, an’ Mars Tilghman’s an’ all de qual’ty dogs
cummin’ troo de cawn fields almos’ nockin’ down de cawn, an’ all ub ’em
carryin’ uh chune, chile you’d almos’ wish yo’sef uh houn’! Yas, indeed,
hunny, dem wuz days futto recommember. An’ sich hosses Ole Mars had; dey
jes’ jump an’ hunt. Da ain’ no hosses dese days like de hosses dem days.
Fuh instinct, like Don Won, Black Nite, Jew-drap, Junius, Fanny Esler,
an’ Sky Lark. Jes’ cum in meh quarter an’ I’ll show de pictur ub dem
hosses. I done lef’ ’em ter Mars Pinckney when I die; you see, I wan’
ter keep ’em in de fambly.
“Mars Nickey had he quare ways, tu, jes’ like udder people. Fuh
instinct, he wud nebber lite he cigah fum uh match, al’ays fum uh cole
uh fire, stuck on uh fork; an’ I lub ter tote de fork ter him—sho’ futto
gimmy uh levy. When he shabe he nebber look at uh glass; jes’ wa’k all
’roun’ de room meddowtatin’ an’ shabin’, an’ shabin’ an’ meddowtatin’,
kase he wo’ no whiskus, an’ ’spise uh beard. One time I nebber will
fogit; Mars Jimmy cum fum Woodstock, had his fiddle in de kerridge an’
wuz full ub peartness. He wuz dribin’ Robbin an’ Red Bird tandy
togedda—jes’ cum futto see he pa—an’ tho’t he wuz ve’y fine wid uh
mustache on he lip. Ole Mars wuz in uh fine umuh, wid uh barsket full ub
mushrooms on he ahms, but when he see dat mustache on Mars Jimmy, he
say, cussin: “You kyant lite tell you cut dat hyah orf.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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