De sun hit shine an' de win' hit blow,
Ol' Brer Rabbit be a-layin' low,
He know dat de wintah time a-comin',
De huntah man he walk an' wait,
He walk right by Brer Rabbit's gate--
De dog he lick his sliverin' chop,
An' he tongue 'gin' his mouf go flop, flop--
He rub his nose fu' to clah his scent
So's to tell w'ich way dat cotton-tail went,
De huntah's wife she set an' spin
A good wahm coat fu' to wrop him in
She look at de skillet an' she smile, oh my!
An' ol' Brer Rabbit got to sholy fly.