Oh the people would come from far away,
They'd dance all night 'til the break of day,
When the caller hollered "do-si-do",
You knew Uncle Pen was ready to go.
Late in the evening about sundown,
High on the hill and above the town,
Uncle Pen played the fiddle Lord how it'd ring,
You could hear it talk, you could hear it sing.
He played a little tune called "Soldier's Joy",
And another one called "The Boston Boy",
The greatest of all was "Jenny Lynn",
To me that's where the fiddlin' begins.
I'll never forget that mournful day,
When Uncle Pen was called away,
They hung up his fiddle, they hung up his bow,
They knew it was time for him to go.
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