Dublin Core
Title
The Fiddle: Mellow Like Whiskey
Subject
The fiddle is rare, hard to learn. No frets, no teacher. Jes' listen to a ol' man an' try to pick it up. Won't tell how to double. Says it's a secret. But I watched. Here's how he done it. Shrill as a wind, the fiddle, quick and nervous and shrill. She ain't much of a fiddle four hundred years old, and they git mellow like whisky Say's they'll cost fifty-fifty thounsan' dollars. I don't know. Soun'sl ike a lie Harsh ol' bastard, ain't she? Wanta dance? I'll rub up the bow with plenty rosin. Man! Then she'll squawk. Hear her a mile (363.)