All the people would come from far away.
They danced all night till the break of day.
When the caller hollered, do-si-do,
you knew Uncle Pim was ready to go.
Late in the evening,
about sundown,
a-howlin' in the hill above the town,
Uncle Pim played the fiddle,
Lord,
how it rang.
You could hear it talk, you could hear it sing.
He
played an old piece he called Soulja Joy,
and one he called Boston Boy. The greatest
of all what Ginny lent to me,
that's where the fiddlin' began.
Late in the evening, about
sundown,
a-howlin' in the hill above the town,
Uncle Pim played the fiddle,
Lord,
how it rang.
You could hear it talk, you could hear it sing.
I'll never forget that mournful day when Uncle Pim was called away.
They hung up his fiddle,
they hung up his bow,
they knew it was time for him to go.
Late in the evening,
about sundown,
a-howlin' in the hill above the town,
Uncle Pim played
the fiddle, Lord, how it rang.
You could hear it talk, you could hear it sing.
Late in the evening,
about sundown,
a-howlin' in the hill above the town,
Uncle Pim played the fiddle,
Lord,
how it rang.
You could hear it talk, you could hear it sing.