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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.