Say, dat puts me in de mind of a Baptist brother that was crazy ’bout de preachers and de preacher was crazy ’bout feeding his face. So his son got tired of trying to beat dese stump-knockers to de grub on the table, so one day he throwed out some slams ’bout dese preachers. Dat made his old man mad, so he tole his son to git out. He boy ast him “Where must I go, papa?” He says, “Go on to hell I reckon … I don’t keer where you go.” So de boy left and was gone seven years. He come back one cold, windy night and rapped on de door. “Who dat?” de old man ast him. “It’s me, Jack.” De old man opened de door, so glad to see his son agin, and tole Jack to come in. He did and looked all round de place. Seven or eight preachers was sitting round de fire eatin’ and drinkin’. “Where you been all dis time, Jack?” de old man ast him. “I been to hell,” Jack tole him. “Tell us how it is down there, Jack.” “Well,” he says, “It’s just like it is here … you cain’t git to de fire for de preachers.”

Lige Monologue from The mule-bone

Rehearse Lige's monologue