The Tin Peddler
Jason White has come ter town
Drivin’ his tin peddler’s cart,
Pans a-bangin’ up an’ down
Like they’d tear theirselves apart;
Kittles rattlin’ underneath,
Coal-hods scrapin’ out a song,—
Makes a feller grit his teeth
When old Jason comes along.
Jason drives a sorrel mare,
Bones an’ skin at all her j’ints,
“Blooded stock,” says Jase; “I swear,
Jest see how she shows her p’ints!
Walkin’ ’s her best lay,” says he,
Eyes a-twinklin’ full of fun,
“Named her Keely Motor. See?
Sich hard work ter make her run.”
Jason’s jest the slickest scamp,
Full of jokes as he can hold;
Says he beats Aladdin’s lamp,
Givin’ out new stuff fer old;
“Buy your rags fer more ’n they’re worth,
Give yer bran’-new, shiny tin,
I’m the softest snap on earth,”
Says old Jason, with a grin.
Jason gits the women’s ear
Tellin’ news and talkin’ dress;
Can ’t be peddlin’ forty year
An’ not know ’em more or less;
Children like him; sakes alive!
Why, my Jim, the other night,
Says, “When I git big I’ll drive
Peddler’s cart, like Jason White!”