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!”