THE FIDDLER OF DOONEY
(W. B. Yeats)

When I play on my fiddle in Dooney
Folk dance like the wave on the sea.
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabouie.

Oh, I passed my brother and cousin;
They read in their books of prayer.
Ah, but I, I read in my book of songs
That I got at the Sligo Fair.

When we come to the end of our time,
To Saint Peter all sitting in state,
He will smile on these three old spirits,
But pass me first through the gate.

For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle, aye,
And the merry love to dance.

So, when all the folk up there spy me,
They will all come and gather 'round me,
Saying, "Here is the fiddler of Dooney,"
And they'll dance like a wave on the sea.

Oh, the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle, aye,
And the merry love to dance.

And when all the folk up there spy me,
They will all come and gather 'round me,
Saying, "Here is the fiddler of Dooney,"
And they'll dance like a wave on the sea.
They'll dance like a wave on the sea.


Words: W. B. Yeats; Music: Jo-Ellen Bosson, BMI Music: copyright, 1980
Recorded by Gordon Bok on Folk Legacy, Return to the Land
@music
filename[ FIDDONEY
SOF
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