Sybil sits in a rocking chair   Chewing tobacco and spitting out cares   Sound of a fiddle floating through the air      From the Jones boy across the holler   From the Jones boy across the way      Backwoods folks take sides from the middle   Backwoods folks is old and brittle   But they sway like a tree to the sound of a fiddle      From the Jones boy across the holler   From the Jones boy across the way      You can hear him late at night   You can hear him in the first light of the day   There's a contest coming and a ticket to Nashville   And the Jones boy aims to play   A contest coming and a ticket to Nashville   And the Jones boy aims to win