"All the young sprouts who ain't too bashful—and the ones who ain't made many trips out behind the house to find a bottle—ask the pretty girls to dance again. And away they go! This lasts half an hour or so."
"Then what?"
"Then the fiddlers have to rest again, and I pass the hat again. If the dancers don't want to pay much, why the musicians don't feel like playing much. Sometimes I have to call out: 'The more money in the hat, boys, the sweeter goes the songs!' Or, I say: 'Pay your fiddlers, boys, and y'all can call the tunes!'"
"Say, Casey, ain't you got that thing tuned yet?"
"Yep! I'm all set now, Jim-Bo." Casey stuck his fiddle under his chin and edged his chair over closer to the lamp. "What do y'all wanta hear first? Bandershanks, what do you say?"
"I don't know."
"Why don't y'all start off with 'Turkey in the Straw,' Aunt Vic said, "and then do 'Arkansas Traveler.'"
So, they played some lively tunes. All of them sounded pretty, but I couldn't tell which was which.
Then Casey said, "Jim-Bo, sing her the one about being an old maid!"
"Yeah, Casey, that's a good one. Bandershanks, you're gonna like this song. It's called 'The Old Maid's Lament.' Hi, gim'me a few chords to help me along."