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“De chillun ub Ephram fogot de works ub de Lawd, an’ his wonders, arfter he had rain down manner ’pon ’em to eat. Uncle Reubin say de manner wuz mushrooms. De reason ub de flood, is kase de chillun ub man fogot deah benefits. Dey wan’t satisfied wid creeks an’ ribbers, but dey mus’ provok’ uh flood. Is dar any pusson in dis chuch dat would fogit Miles Ribber? De Petracks would. Dunno though! Kase I reckin da wan’t no ribbers in dem days lubly as Miles Ribber. Kin I eber fogit her wha’ I wuz born? How it charm an’ conjur me when I goes fishin’, oysterin’ er crabbin’ in de mawnin’s, when de ribber is cam. Den de trees is ’flected in de watah an’ de heb’nly clouds meck rainbows in de watah. An’ dat Miles Ribber is so clare when de trees is ’flected in de mawnin’ befo’ de sun-up, you kin see de jewdraps on de leabes. An’ sometimes all day long when de breeze is sorf de sun plays on de ripples, an’ when de sun git tired an’ sink in de wes’ de moon plays on de watah sorter ridin’ de canterin’ wabes. An’ de hooppo-wills sing, an’ de mockin’ birds chant, an’ de wabes chases de moonlight, an’ de moonlight chases de wabes; an’ de stars way down deep in de watah winks an’ twinks at yer, an’ dey looks ez bright ez de eyes ub Phareoh’s daughter an’ almos’ ez sorf’ ez uh possum’s. It’s uh sin to play on de fiddle, flute an’ fife, an’ to dance, but, brudderin, it’s ’spirin’ an’ heb’nly to see de moon dance on Miles Ribber, spreadin’ hissef on de top ub de wabes, makin’ dem de color ub silver, jes’ like dear ole Missis hyah.