UNCLE JOHN FIDDLER by PERCY MACKAYE

As I walked down on Greasy, Greasy
Bottom, when the mists were trailing,
I stopped to call at Fiddler John's
And met a rooster on the paling.

His ribald comb was gay as dawn,
His red-and-yellow craw was crowing.
A baby shoat went squealing by
And a brindled heifer lowing.

I clicked the gate and waited where
The smoky breakfast-pot was tilting.
A bantam hen came cackling out
Had laid her egg upon the quilting.

Then out @3he@1 came and wrung my hand
With God a'mighty grace and blessing,
And nursed his fiddle on his knee
And rubbed the bow with rosin dressing,

And poked the cedar next his rib
And slanted down his gnarled check near it
And drew the charming-stick that loosed
The dancing legions of his spirit:

They raced along the taut strings where
His knuckly fingers touched and tapered,
They froliced through his frowzled hair
And down his twitching nose they capered.

@3The Round Town Girls@1 they ran a set
Where @3Cripple Creek@1 roared a freshet fountain,
@3Old Joe Clark@1 jigged in @3Cumberland Gap,
The Lost Girl@1 sang on @3Sourwood Mountain@1.

A shrilly cat-bird called the leads,
The jarr-fly joined the double-single,
A gander honked the promenade,
The very fleas hopped in the ingle:

All day they hopped; and when at dusk
I groped up Greasy in my trancing,
I vow the lonely evening star
Upon Pine Mountain top was dancing;

And in a gloaming cloud I heard
Old Satan roar a snatch at griddling,
And saw seven Cherubs smash their harps
To hear the Lord himself afiddling.

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