Now you think that is right, sah? Talk the truth. The man was mi friend. I built it, I build the house that him live in; but now that him dead, that mawga-foot bwoy, him son, come say, him want a nice job for the coffin.
So him give it to Mister Belnavis to make - that big-belly crook who don't know him arse from a chisel, but because him is big-shot, because him make big shot coffin, fi-him coffin must better than mine! Bwoy it hot me, it hot me for true.
Uno waah more?
Dem was water-bird, brother! Funeral? Me, sah? That bwoy have to learn that a man have him pride. But bless mi days! Good enough to build the house that him live in, but not good enough to make him coffin! I woulda do it for nutt'n, for nutt'n! The man was mi friend.
Fix we a nex' one, Miss Fergie - That man coulda knock back him waters, you know sah! I remember the day in this said-same bar when him drink Old Brown and Coxs'n into the ground, then stand up straight as a plumb-line, and keel him felt hat on him head and walk home cool, cool, cool.
Damn mawga-foot bwoy. Is university turn him fool. I tell you, it burn me, it burn me for true!
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