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