TRADIN' UP THE HOLLOW.



      Oh, they're tradin' up the holler,
        Jinkins Hite has come across
From his rome in Martin county up at Ep;
      An' Jinkins is a trader-
        He can jedge a swappin hoss
Jest the minnit that he sees him take a step.

      Swappin' hosses is a business
        Where you've got to have some brains,
An' a ready heft of lyin' for the same.
      An' it takes a heap of patience
        An' a lot of keerful pains
For to git a queer hoss ready for the game.


      An' Jinkins come a prancin'
        Up the holler on his mare;
An' she had the finest tail an' curly mane,
      An' he racked her an' he paced her
      An' he told us ev'rywhere:
"You will never see the likes of her agane."



      Julus Fothergill was itchin  
        For to hit him for a swap,
For that mare with flowin' tail had caught his eye;
      Julus had a ches'nut sorrel
        With a sorter runnin' hop,
An' he kicked at ev'rything as come a-nigh.



      An' Jinkins, kinder latighin',
        Said he wasn't hard to suit;
An' Julus says: "I'm waitin' for your say."
      An' Jinkins says: "I'm thinkin'
        That it's twenty-five to boot."
An' Jinkins got the cash and rode away.



      'Twas Julus kinder laughin',
        As he took the nobby mare,
Sayin', "Who'd a thought old Jinkins was so tame."
      But Jinkins crossed the river,
        An' he never had a care,
For Jinkins knowed the playin' of the game.