Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings

Joel Chandler Harris

V

The Story Of The Deluge And How It Came About

“ONE time,” said Uncle Remus—adjusting his spectacles so as to be able to see how to thread a large darning-needle with which he was patching his coat—“one time, way back yander, ’fo’ you wuz borned, honey, en ’fo’ Mars John er Miss Sally wuz borned-way back yander ’fo’ enny un us wuz borned, de anemils en de creeturs sorter ’lecshuneer roun’ ’mong deyselves, twel at las’ dey ’greed fer ter have a ’sem-bly. In dem days,” continued the old man, observing a look of incredulity on the little boy’s face, “in dem days creeturs had lots mo’ sense dan dey got now; let ’lone dat, dey had sense same like folks. Hit was tech en go wid um, too, mon, en w’en dey make up der mines w’at hatter be done, ’twant mo’n menshun’d ’fo, hit wuz done. Well, dey ’lected dat dey hatter hole er ’sembly fer ter sorter straighten out marters en hear de complaints, en w’en de day come dey wuz on han’. De Lion, he wuz dar, kase he wuz de king, en he hatter be der. De Bhynossyhoss, he wuz dar, en de Elephent, he wuz dar, en de Cammils, en de Cows, en plum down ter de Crawnshes, dey wuz dar. Dey wuz all dar. En w’en de Lion shuck his mane, en tuck his seat in de big cheer, den de sesshun begun fer ter commence.

“What did they do, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

“I can’t skacely call to mine ’zackly w’at dey did do, but dey spoke speeches, en hollered, en cusst, en flung der langwidge ’roun’ des like w’en yo’ daddy wuz gwineter run fer de legislater en got lef’. Howsomever, dey ’ranged der ’fairs, en splained der bizness. Bimeby, w’ile dey wuz ’sputin’ ’longer one er nudder, de Elephent trompled on one er de Craw-fishes. Co’se w’en dat creetur put his foot down, w’atsumever’s under dar wuz bonn’ fer ter be squshed, en dey wa’n’t nuff er dat Crawfish lef’ fer ter tell dat he’d bin dar.

“Dis make de udder Crawnshes mighty mad, en dey sorter swarmed tergedder en draw’d up a kinder peramble wid some wharfo’es in it, en read her out in de ’sembly. But, bless grashus! sech a racket wuz a gwine on dat nobody ain’t hear it, ’ceppin may be de Mud Turkle en de Spring Lizzud, en dere enfloons wuz pow’ful lackin’.

“Bimeby, w’iles de Nunicorn wuz ’sputin’ wid de Lion, en w’ile de Hyener wuz a laughin’ ter hisse’f, de Elephent squshed anudder one er de Crawfishes, en a little mo’n he’d er ruint de Mud Turkle. Den de Crawfishes, w’at dey wuz lef’ un urn, swarmed tergedder en draw’d up anudder peramble wid sum mo’ wharfo’es; but dey might ez well er sung Ole Dan Tucker ter a harrycane. De udder creeturs wuz too busy wid der fussin’ fer ter ’spon’ unto de Crawfishes. So dar dey wuz, de Crawfishes, en dey didn’t know w’at minnit wuz gwineter be de nex’; en dey kep’ on gittin madder en madder en skeerder en skeerder, twel bimeby dey gun de wink ter de Mud Turkie en de Spring Lizzud, en den dey bo’d little holes in de groun’ en went down outer sight.”

“Who did, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

“De Crawfishes, honey. Dey bo’d inter de groun’ en kep’ on bo’in twel dey onloost de fountains er de earf; en de waters squirt out, en riz higher en higher twel de hills wuz kivvered, en de creeturs wuz all drowuded; en all bekaze dey let on ’mong deyselves dat dey wuz bigger dan de Crawfishes.”

Then the old man blew the ashes from a smoking yam, and proceeded to remove the peeling.

“Where was the ark, Uncle Remus?” the little boy inquired, presently.

“W’ich ark’s dat?” asked the old man, in a tone of well-feigned curiosity.

“Noah’s ark,” replied the child.

“Don’t you pester wid ole man Noah, honey. I bonn’ he tuck keer er dat ark. Dat’s w’at he wuz dar fer, en dat’s w’at he done. Leas’ways, dat’s w’at dey tells me. But don’t you bodder longer dat ark, ’ceppin’ your mammy fetches it up. Dey mout er bin two deloojes, en den agin dey moutent. Ef dey wuz euny ark in dish yer w’at de Crawfishes brung on, I ain’t heern tell un it, en w’en dey ain’t no arks ’roun’, I ain’t got no time fer ter make urn en put urn in dar. Hit’s gittin’ yo’ bedtime, honey.”