Den agin he sing kin' o' long and soft and wheedlesome, like Sambo when he come a-courtin' o' me.
Sho, now! come to t'ink o' Sambo, he didn't nebber like Mockers, a'ter one time he 'spicioned a Mocker tole tales on him.

Massa Branscome--he were a mighty fine man and your gran'dad, Miss Olive--he say he wouldn't have no puss'n to rob de nests o' Mockers, not anywheres on his 'states.
Dey did eat a pile o' fruit, but dat was nuffin'.

Fus' place he jes' loved ter hear 'em sing, an' den he 'lowed dat dey was powerful fond o' cottin worms, what was mighty bad some years.
"Now lots o' coon darkies dey uster steal de youn' Mockers jes' afore dey lef' de nest and sell 'em to white trash dat ud tote 'em down the ribber an' sell 'em agin in N'Orleans, to be fetched off in ships.

And I'se hear tell dat dere ain't any sech birds in oder countries, and dat de kings and queens jes' gib dere gold crowns offen dere heads t' have a cage o' Mockers.
"Dem coons nebber got no gold crowns, howsumever.

What dey got was mos'ly a quarter foh free he-birds.