When Jimmie picked his fiddle up and started in to play, The outside world just disappeared and worries went away. And mocking birds began to sing and lilacs burst in bloom, The scent of honeysuckle sort of drifted through the room. And every winter heart that heard was weather deep in May When Jimmie picked his fiddle up and started in to play. I see his kindly features now, the toil-worn hands and bow, The dreamy look that filled his eyes while playing 'Long Ago.' Sometimes he mourned for 'Kitty Wells,' or played 'Sweet Bye and Bye,' And even now, remembering, my eyes are hardly dry. And then the strings would weep and moan for 'Darling Nellie Gray' When Jimmie picked his fiddle uo and started in to play. When Jimmie picked his fiddle up and rosined up his bow, And settled in an easy chir and crossed his legs just so. With hazel eyes a twinkling—we all just slipped around And sat ourselves down easy-like and never made a sound. Except, of course, the little folks would shout a loud 'Hurray!' When Jimmie picked his fiddle up and started in to play. 'Over the Waves,' I hear it yet in tones so soft and low, Still drifting echo-like and sweet through dreams of long ago. 'Swing your partners, Do-si-do' the singing strings did cry, And many a romance blossomed full while 'Comin' through the Rye.' My lonely heart keeps yearning for the times once young and gay When Jimmie picked his fiddle up and started in to play, The battered fiddle's silent now for lo! these many years, So badly worn by his dear hands and spotted with his tears. And all the friends he knew and loved so very long ago Are listening with the angels now, they've gone from all we know. But the joyous memories of old will never fade away, When Jimmie picks his fiddle up and starts again to play. Poem courtesy of Iris Sewell Adapted by Muriel R. Shupe 93