Hi started plucking the guitar strings and patting his foot. And Jim-Bo sang:
My papa tells me I'm pretty,
But I'm sadly much afraid,
If Pa don't put down that shotgun,
I'll go to my grave an old maid.
The boys never come a-courtin';
They dare not darken our door.
O please go find me a—
"You can't be no old maid!" I hollered at Jim-Bo before he could sing any further.
"Why, Bandershanks! You don't mean it!"
"Just girls turn to old maids!"
"You wanta turn into one?"
"No, I don't! It's a disgrace to be a old maid! And you better not get a baby 'fore you get married, neither!"
"Well, well, you don't say. In that case, it looks to me like a girl's got little choice. 'Bout all she can do is avoid the extremes and keep her eye on the altar!"
"What does that mean?"
"Means we'd better have another tune. Or, maybe you'll dance some for us. How 'bout that?"