en he skin. He
open he eyes an' he 'gin to shake like de aspen tree, 'ca'se whut dat
a-standin' right dar behind him but a 'mendjous big ghost! Yas, sah, dat
de bigges', whites' ghost whut yever was. An' it ain't got no head.
Ain't go no head _at_ all. Li'l black Mose he jest drap on he knees an'
he beg an' pray:

"Oh, 'scuse me! 'Scuse me, Mistah Ghost!" he beg. "Ah ain't mean no harm
at all."

"Whut for you try to take my head?" as' de ghost in dat fearsome voice
whut like de damp wind outen de cellar.

"'Scuse me! 'Scuse me!" beg li'l Mose. "Ah ain't know dat was yo' head,
an' I ain't know you was dar _at_ all. 'Scuse me!"

"Ah 'scuse you ef you do me dis favor," say de ghost. "Ah got somefin'
powerful _im_portant to say unto you, an' Ah can't say hit 'ca'se Ah
ain't got no head; an' whin Ah ain't got no head, Ah ain't got no mouf,
an' whin Ah ain't got no mouf, Ah can't talk _at_ all."

An' dat right logical fo' shore. Can't nobody talk whin he ain't got no
mouf, an' can't nobody have no mouf whin he ain't got no head, an' whin
li'l black Mose he look, he see dat ghost ain't go no head _at_ all.
Nary head.

So de ghost say:

"Ah come on down yere fo' to git a pumpkin fo' a head, an' Ah pick dat
ixact pumpkin whut yo' gwine tek, an' Ah don't like dat one bit. No,
sah. Ah feel like Ah pick yo' up an' carry yo' away, an' nobody see you
no more for yever. But Ah got somefin' powerful _im_portant to say unto
yo', an' if yo' pick up dat pumpkin an' sot it on de place whar my head
ought to be, Ah let you off dis time, 'ca'se Ah ain't been able to talk
fo' so long Ah'm right hongry to say somefin'!"

So li'l black Mose he heft up dat pumpkin, an' de ghost he bent down,
an' li'l black Mose he sot dat pumpkin on dat ghostses neck. An' right
off dat pumpkin head 'gin to wink an' blink like a jack-o'-lantern, an'
right off dat pumpkin head 'gin to glimmer an' glow frough de mouf like
a jack-o'-lantern, an' right off dat ghost start to speak. Yas, sah,
dass so.

"Whut yo' want to say unto me?" _in_quire li'l black Mose.

"Ah want to tell yo'," say de ghost, "dat yo' ain't need yever be
skeered of ghosts, 'ca'se dey ain't no ghosts."

An' whin he say dat de ghost jes vanish away like de smoke in July. He
ain't even linger round dat locality like de smoke in Yoctober. He jes
dissipate outen de air, an' he gone _in_tirely.

So li'l Mose he grab up de nex' bestest pumpkin an' he scoot. An' whin
he come to de grabeyar