Lyr Req: The Fiddle

Subject: The Fiddle
From: Kim C
Date: 19 Jun 01 - 02:15 PM

While we were in Williamsburg, Mister picked up a tape of songs by the late Tayler Vrooman, who sang in Williamsburg and all over the world. One of the songs is listed as "The Fiddle" and it's quite amusing. There are no historical notes or lyrics with the cassette, and I can't understand everything he's saying... but the last line, I swear, sounds like "kiss my bum fiddle" and I just HAVE to find out! ;-)

A search of the DT and the other usual suspects has been futile. Any thoughts?

Cheers---- Kim

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Fiddle
From: Sorcha
Date: 19 Jun 01 - 02:23 PM

Kim, go here! and use your Find button (under edit) to find bum fiddle. Is this it? Lots of bgd info, too.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Fiddle
From: Kim C
Date: 19 Jun 01 - 02:32 PM

Sorcha! You ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cheers--- Fiddlebum

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Fiddle
From: MMario
Date: 19 Jun 01 - 02:33 PM

well done sorcha!

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Fiddle
From: Sorcha
Date: 19 Jun 01 - 02:36 PM

aww shucks. T'weren't hard. I just asked google for "the fiddle", then asked the Within Results for bum.

Subject: Lyr Add: A FIDDLE'S HARD CASE (Anne Finch)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 05 Apr 02 - 01:16 PM

Copied from http://www.jimandellen.org/finch/yeladsa.html

(See http://mason.gmu.edu/~emoody/finchtexts.html for more poems by the same author.)

(Note: As I found it, the poem had no title other than "Being an Excellent Ballad [etc.]" I gave it the title "A Fiddle's Hard Case" because that seems to be what the author intended—see verse 2. --JD)

A FIDDLE'S HARD CASE
"Being an Excellent Ballad the Occasion of which said to have been from an Accident that happn'd at Ld Weymouth at Long-Leat of a Gentleman's setting down upon a Fiddle that a Lady had just before been playing upon & breaking it"
(Attributed to Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea, c 1724)

Ye Lads and ye Lasses that live at Long-Leat
Where they say there's no end of good Drink and good Meat
Where the Poor fill their Bellies, the Rich receive honour;
So great and so good is the Lord of the manour.
CHO: Derry, down, down, down.

Ye Nymphs and ye Swains that inhabit the Place,
Give Ear to my Song, a Fiddles hard Case;
For it is of a Fiddle, a sweet Fiddle I sing,
A sweet and softer did never wear String. CHO.

Melpomene lend me the aid of thy Art,
Whilst I the sad Fate of this Fiddle impart;
For never good fiddle had fortune so bad,
Which proves the best Things the worst Fortune have had.
Derry, down, down down

But first I must sing of this Fiddle's Country:
'Twas born and 'twas bred in fair Italy.
In a Place where a marshal of France had the hap
(Fortune de la guerre) to be caught in a Trap. CHO.

But to sing out my Ditty in praise of the Fiddle
That I may not be said to break off in the middle
I'l next gentle Reader the Virtues explain
Then sigh to decay with great Sorrow & Pain CHO.

This Fiddle of Fiddles, when it came to be tri'd,
Was as sweet as the Lark, and as soft as a Bride;
But, oh! when I shall its catastrophe sing,
Your heart it will bleed, and your Hands you will wring. CHO.

Having told you the truth of this fiddle's high Birth,
I shou'd sing of the Fingers that made so much Mirth;
The Fingers so swift, so strait, and so small,
Shou'd be sung by a Poet, or not sung at all. CHO.

For I am, God wot, but a poor Country Swain,
And cannot indite in so lofty a Strain;
For the best I can say which I'll you once more,
I ne'er saw such Hands & such Fingers before. CHO.

For the Hands, & the Fingers & the Fiddle together
Cou'd make heavy Heart as Light as a Feather
Such Light for to see, such Musick to hear
Gave delight to the Eye, while it ravish'd the Ear CHO.

Having sung of the Fingers & Fiddle, I trow,
I hold it fair to sing of the bow
The Bow it was Ebon, whose Virtue was such,
That it wounded your hearts, while our Ears it did touch. CHO.

Cupid fain wou'd have chang'd with this Bow for a while;
To which the Coy nymph to reply with a smile,
Quoth she mine is far better than your's, I'll appeal
For yours only can kill, mine can both kill and heal. CHO.

My Bow does produce such a ravishing Sound
As can cure all Diseaes & heal ev'ry Wound
Lends a Crutch to the Cripple makes the Deaf for to hear
Such Wonders it works that it hath not its Pear. CHO.

This fiddle was laid on a soft easy chair
Taking all for its friends its sweet musick did hear;
When strait there came in a huge masculine bum
I wish the de'el had it to make him a drum. CHO.

Now Woe to this Bum that this Fiddle demolish'd,
That it has all our Joys and Pastime abolish'd;
Let it never want Birch, to be swing'd and be slash'd,
Forever be itching, & never be scratch'd. CHO.

Let it never break wind in the Cholick so grievous,
A Penance too small for a Crime so mischievous;
Mount on horseback without loss of Leather,
Which brings me almost to the end of my tether. CHO.

Of other Bums scapes may it still bear the blame,
Ne'er shew its bare Face without Sorrow or Shame:
Ne'er find a soft Cushion its anguish to ease,
While all is too little my Wrath to appease. CHO.

And now, shou'd some critick of deep penetration,
Attack our poor ballad with grave Annotation,
The Fop must be told, without speaking in Riddle,
He shou'd first make a better--or kiss my Bum-fiddle. CHO.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Fiddle
From: Jack Campin
Date: 02 Jan 12 - 02:03 PM

A copy of that ballad with some historical notes:

British Violin Maker's Association Newsletter, Summer 2008

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Fiddle
From: GUEST,Grishka
Date: 03 Jan 12 - 06:36 AM

Jack, thanks for refreshing this thread; I love it.