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.