Trouble In De Kitchen

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by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Dey was oncet a awful quoil ‘twixt de skillet an’ de
De pot was des a-bilin’ an’ de skillet sho’
was hot.
Dey slurred each othah’s colah an’ dey called
each othah names,
W’ile de coal-oil can des gu-gled, po’in oil
erpon de flames.

De pot, hit called de skillet des a flat, disfig-
ured t’ing,
An’ de skillet ‘plied dat all de pot could do
was set an’ sing,
An’ he ‘lowed dat dey was ‘lusions dat he
wouldn’t stoop to mek
‘Case he reckernize his juty, an’ he had too
much at steak.

Well, at dis de pot biled ovah, case his tempah
gittin’ highah,
An’ de skillet got to sputterin’, den de fat
was in de fiah.
Mistah fiah lay daih smokin’ an’ a-t’inkin’
to hisse’f,
W’ile de peppah-box us nudgin’ of de gingah
on de she’f.

Den dey all des lef’ hit to ‘im, ‘bout de trouble
an’ de talk;
An’ howevah he decided, w’y dey bofe ‘u’d
walk de chalk;
But de fiah uz so ‘sgusted how dey quoil an’
dey shout
Dat he cooled ‘em off, I reckon, w’en he
puffed an’ des went out.

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