|
Phish |
|
Miscellaneous |
|
Uncle Pen |
|
Oh, the people would come from far and away, |
|
They'd dance all night 'till the break of day, |
|
When the caller would holler "Do-si-do," |
|
You knew Uncle Pen was ready to go. |
|
Late in the evening about sun down, |
|
High on the hill and above the town, |
|
Uncle Pen played the fiddle, lord a how it'd ring, |
|
You could hear it talk, you could hear it sing. |
|
Oh, he played an old piece he called Soldier's Joy, |
|
And he had one he called Boston Boy, |
|
The greatest of all was Ginny Lyn, |
|
To me that's where the fiddlin begin. |
|
(chorus) |
|
Oh, I'll never forget that mournful day, |
|
When Uncle Pen was called away, |
|
They hung up his fiddle, they hung up his bow, |
|
You knew it was time for him to go. |
|
(chorus) |