“DEY WUZ ONE TIME W’EN OLE BRER RABBIT ’UZ bleedzd ter go ter town atter sump’n n’er fer his fambly, an’ he mos’ ’shame’ ter go kaze his shoes done wo’ teetotally out. Yit he bleedzd ter go, an’ he put des ez good face on it ez he kin, an’ he take down he walkin’-cane an’ sot out des ez big ez de next un.
“Well, den, ole Brer Rabbit go on down de big road twel he come ter de place whar some folks bin camp out de night befo’, an’ he sot down by de fier, he did, fer ter worn his foots, kaze dem mawnin’s ’uz sorter col’, like deze yer mawnin’s. He sot dar an’ look at his toes, an’ he feel mighty sorry fer hisse’f.
“Well, den, he sot dar, he did, en ’twa’n’t long ’fo’ he year sump’n n’er trottin’ down de road, an’ he tuck’n look up an’ yer come Mr. Dog a-smellin’ an’ a-snuffin’ ’roun’ fer ter see ef de folks lef’ any scraps by der camp-fier. Mr. Dog ’uz all dress up in his Sunday-go-ter-meetin’ cloze, an’ mo’n dat, he had on a pa’r er bran’ new shoes.
“Well, den, w’en Brer Rabbit see dem ar shoes he feel mighty bad, but he ain’t let on. He bow ter Mr. Dog mighty perlite, an’ Mr. Dog he bow back, he did, an’ dey pass de time er day, kaze dey ’uz ole ’quaintance. Brer Rabbit, he say:
“‘Mr. Dog, whar you gwine all fix up like dis?’
“‘I gwine ter town, Brer Rabbit; whar you gwine?’
“‘I thought I go ter town myse’f fer ter git me new pa’r shoes, kaze my ole uns done wo’ out en dey hu’ts my foots so bad I can’t w’ar um. Dem mighty nice shoes w’at you got on, Mr. Dog; whar you git um?’
“‘Down in town, Brer Rabbit, down in town.’
“‘Dey fits you mighty slick, Mr. Dog, an’ I wish you be so good ez ter lemme try one un um on.’
“Brer Rabbit talk so mighty sweet dat Mr. Dog sot right flat on de groun’ an’ tuck off one er de behime shoes, an’ loan’t it ter Brer Rabbit. Brer Rabbit, he lope off down de road en den he come back. He tell Mr. Dog dat de shoe fit mighty nice, but wid des one un um on, hit make ’im trot crank-sided.
“Well, den, Mr. Dog, he pull off de yuther behime shoe, an’ Brer Rabbit trot off an’ try it. He come back, he did, an’ he say:
“‘Dey mighty nice, Mr. Dog, but dey sorter r’ars me up behime, an’ I dunner zackly how dey feels.’
“Dis make Mr. Dog feel like he wanter be perlite, an’ he take off de befo’ shoes, an’ Brer Rabbit put um on an’ stomp his foots, an ’low:
“‘Now dat sorter feel like shoes;’ an’ he rack off down de road, an’ w’en he git whar he oughter tu’n ’roun’, he des lay back he years an’ keep on gwine; an’ ’twa’n’t long ’fo’ he git outer sight.
“Mr. Dog, he holler, an’ tell ’im fer ter come back, but Brer Rabbit keep on gwine; Mr. Dog, he holler, Mr. Rabbit, he keep on gwine. An’ down ter dis day,” continued ’Tildy, smacking her lips, and showing her white teeth, “Mr. Dog bin a-runnin’ Brer Rabbit, an’ ef you’ll des go out in de woods wid any Dog on dis place, des time he smell de Rabbit track he’ll holler an’ tell ’im fer ter come back.”
“Dat’s de Lord’s trufe!” said Aunt Tempy.
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS was an American journalist and folk lorist from Georgia. His first collection of folktales based on the African-American oral storytelling tradition was published in 1880. It was an instant success, and his stories – among which the most famous are the ‘Brer Rabbit’ tales – inspired generations of writers.