The Carbon County news. [volume] (Red Lodge, Mont.) 1924-1931, 1930-03-06

what it used to be. but if there is any
poetry OF motion in two people trying
to move about when dashed together
as tight as courtplaSter on sore
thumb, then do not understand
pure English.
Possibly the publication of an ar
tiele like this will excite the emnity
of whole army of modern crow
hoppers and single footers, but darn
ed If | don't take chance. This gem
of literature is written for the spec
ial benefit of you young striplings
and want to tell you right here that
you don't know what real dancing is.
You imagine too often that you have
got to get ait up to have good
time. And while | am on the sub
ject | want to tell you something
else.
If you had attended the old-fashion-
ed dance above referred to you would
have seen your Pa and Ma having a
good time, and then if you could back
with them, say, % or 30 years
you would get your eyes clear open.
Your Pa was fine looking young
man, son. When he came to take
your Ma to dance during their
counting days your Ma used to fix
his tie. But she wasn't fixing his
tie, son. She was trying to smell his
breath. Your Dad carried several
kinds of sensen around with him. He
often reached for his pocket, but it
wasn't his hip pocket, but his vest
pocket. That's where he kept the
life savers in those days. He used
to wear boots and had a mustaehe
and adjustable cuffs and a stiff white
shirt front that he could put on and
fasten at the back of his neck. You
will live long time before you are
as fine a looking man as your Pa
and I'll leave it to your mother.
I We had hired man once who came
in out of the corn field one evening
and decided to go to country dance.
No shoe backing could be found
about the place so he put stove pol
ish on his boots. Believe it or not,
he married the finest girl in. the
neighborhood within two weeks. But
II am DEPRESSING
Your Ma was by all odds the pref
test, sweetest, charming little girl
in the whole township. Say, boy,
she didn't need to paint herself up
like a wooden Indian to get by. A
little dream of beauty with rosy
cheeks, rubyslips and eyes like two
blue spots stolen from June sky.
That was your Mother, son.
And, sister let me tell you that all
the boys were crazy about your Ma.
She used to have chaperone, though
lshe didn't need one. You have none,
but you need a couple of 'em, you sure.
| do. The two things she strenuously
avoided, aside from a suspicious and
questionable breath, were a scandal
| in the family and skeleton in the
closet Modesty, purity, virtue;
those were her precepts and you bet
she saw to it that your Dad walk
ed the straight and narrow, too.
And then the dance No modern
| five-piece orchestra hammering on
everything around them to make
noise in keeping with the atrocious
antics incident to jazz and ragtime.
There was a fiddler or two and an
organist and a caller They didn't
have violins in those days, just fiddles
and fiddlers and when they drew the
bow across the vibrant strings the
spirit of music flowed out through
their fingers by the bucketfull. Their
melodies were the echoes of Natures
sweet voices. In every sweep of the
bow there was the call of the Bob
White, the trill of the thrush or the
song of the. sWhipporwill, never
knew an old-time fiddler that didn't
like. hope every one of them is
in Heaven.
The caller had call for every tune.
MRS. McCloud's Reel" Coming
Through the Rye, Money Musk"
Arkansas Traveller, Devils Dream,
"Over the Waves, no matter, it was
'lady to the center and seven hands
round, Cheat or swing, "up the
center and cast off six" or "swing
that girl behind you
Nobody ever committed any sin
dancing an old-time dance. 1t simp-
ly couldn't be done And talk about