Choppin'

We started choppin’ on that tree, and we hadn’t been cuttin’ very long, until I got kinda tired.

Indeed, her hands—rough, calloused, scaly, and gnarled—were more like that of an old man than an old lady, testifying to her claim that she’d “Don’ don’ mens work, pickin’ an’ choppin’ cotton, puttin’ up fence rows, cuttin’ wood, takin’ keer of a fahm, fuh near sixty-fi’ years.”

Junior said Papa told him he cut his toe off with the choppin’ axe when he was choppin’ wood.

I’ve a good notion to take the fencin’ of it as well as the choppin’.

“I wanna see knife-cuttin’, slice-cuttin’, choppin’, blowin’ up,” he says, with a sneer.

Junior said Papa told him he cut his toe off with the choppin’ axe when he was choppin’ wood.

Cryin’ and choppin’. Cuttin’ and sobbin’.