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Rh Old Jim Johnson tuned his fiddle — Sakes alive! How he could play "Money Musk" and old "Sir Roger"— I can almost see them now, In the minuet's courtly circles, Sweeping low with stately bow. How your grandma's golden tresses Glittered 'neath the lantern light! Forty years—but I remember— Just as if it was to-night. Then the farmhouse—such a supper- Apples, nuts and gingerbread; How we sang until the shouting Shook the rafters overhead. Ducked for apples, "threw the blue yarn," Sought the apple's magic spell; Snuffed the candles, sowed the hempseed, Tried more tricks than I can tell; Near to midnight, when the magic Of the Fates had potent grown, All we boys had left the kitchen, So the girls might be alone. Scattered all about the farmyard, "Hide and Seek" in haste we tried, When I noticed that the outside Cellar-door was open wide. Slipping down the steep old stairway, Quick I dropped the door behind; There among the apple-barrels, Thinking vantage safe to find. Munching on a "Ribstone" pippin, I had found a seat at last, When the house-door to the cellar Opened to let some one past; And my heart went all a-tremble When I saw your grandma there,