Ballad Of The Gungy Tin Peddler

                                 I.

Twice ev’ry year there’s an event uv more than passin’ note

A day uv more importance than the day we go to vote;

I doubt ef e’en Thanksgivin’ day or July Four kin beat

The days the old tin peddler comes along the Gungy street.

Twice ev’ry year he comes along, his wagon loaded high

With glist’nig ware uv ev’ry kind to ketch a woman’s eye;

Perched high upon his wagon seat, behind a pair uv nags

He swaps his tinware an’ the like fur rubbers an’ fur rags.

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Hear his pipin’ cry;

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     No woman lets him by.

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Along the Gungy road;

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     O, what a shiny load!

                                 II.

He comes frum somewhere o’er the hill, nobuddy knows jest where,

An’ hez an air uv mystery uv which he takes good care;

He is a woman hater, so he tells the women folks,

An’ never talks uv petty things an’ never laughs or jokes.

He says he once wuz crossed in love, an’ is a bach, says he,

“An’ wouldn’t give a tinker’s durn fur all the maids there be.”

His hair is long, his whiskers grow o’er his sunburned face

An’ women flock around him ez he goes frum place to place.

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     That is what he cries;

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     ‘Neath the Gungy skies.

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Down the dusty street;

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Ev’rything complete.

                                 III.

He hez a stock uv mops an’ brooms, an’ nick-knacks on the side,

An’ tinware fur the aged spouse ez well ez fur the bride.

He cracks it up to beat the band, the best wuz ever made,

“It never will wear out,” he says, “made special fur my trade.”

He weighs a bag uv rags in trade, which rests against his knee

So thet it won’t weigh nigh ez much ez what you figgered, see?

An’ then he puts the highest price upon his cheap John ware –

He is a man uv mystery or else he wouldn’t dare.

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     House to house he goes;

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Breaks the town’s repose.

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Thus the peddler cries;

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Ev’rybuddy buys.

                                 IV.

The women think they’ll make him talk, but talk he never does;

The way he sells them tinware though beats all they ever wuz.

He wears his cloak uv mystery an’ cheats ‘em by the score –

They could do better ef they knew right there in Stokes’s store.

        *          *        *        *        *        *        *

Beyond the hill, an’ on an’ on, the peddler hez a home,

A wife stan’s waitin’ at the door, an’ children go an’ come.

He sells his load uv tinware out, a wise ol’ peddler he

An’ chuckles o’er his bag uv gold this man uv mystery.

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Hear his pipin’ cry;

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     No woman lets him by.

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     O, what a shiny load;

“Tinware! Tinware!”

     Along the Gungy road!

June 9, 1911