Now, don’t that jest beat all?

Minds me of a time when ‘at Riddlespur boy’s up air at the Birminham learnin’ how ta preach. Come home ta do a service one Sundey an wound up havin ta do a funeral fer at colored boy at ran th’ pump house over on Willer Creek.

Well, at boy’s momma was what we’d call a witchy woman. Had th’ voodoo ya’ know.

Well, ol’ Hoatie Riddlespur went up yonder ta read th word of th Lord an all. An I want ya ta know, at witchy woman commenced to doin’ her mess right air in front of at pore ol’ Babtist preacher.

Doin all these spells an incantations, an I don’t know what all.

Well, Hoatie liked ta crawled right up outta his skin when he saw all at. Said they wasn’ anything good ‘bout at place an it was full of th’ devil. He lit out like a skeerd cat.

Ol’ witchy woman called on him of a Sunday an said she didn’t reckon she’d be in need of his services no more.

Ya know, fore he left town, ol’ Hoatie Riddlespur swears on th’ Holy Bible he saw at ol colored boy up wakin’ around.