Subject: Lyr Add: FIDDLER'S CROSS (Bob Pegg)
From:
GUEST,Bruce Michael Baillie
Date: 06 Oct 06 - 06:42 AM
FIDDLERS CROSS by Bob Pegg
By the edge of the graveyard the birches grow tall,
And the moss has crept high up the old chapel wall,
And it's many's the year now and many's the stone
Has fallen since I left my home.
Yes it's many's the year now and still I recall,
Every Saturday evening the dance in the hall.
The lasses were handsome. Us lads were half-tight
As we danced through the long summer's night.
There was Billy on clarinet, Jack on the drum,
Peter the fiddler and his young son Tom.
Now Tommy could whip up a wind from the moor
That would rattle your old cottage door.
So blow out the lights. Watch his finger ends burn.
They said that he went to the crossroads to learn,
And they said that the Old Lad had taught him his tunes
By the light of a dozen full moons.
Now we were all lads in our last year at school,
Still playing at truant, and playing the fool,
And most of that springtime we passed in a dream,
At peace by the banks of the stream.
And the morning was green and the morning was still,
When a black gypsy caravan came up the hill,
And we lay in the long grass and watched them amazed,
As they put out their horses to graze.
And there seemed to be no more than two in the van,
A girl in a cloak and a tall bearded man,
And the girl's hair was black as an old standing stone,
And her skin was as white as a bone;
And she looked at Tommy, and he looked at her,
And she must've caused something inside him to stir,
For he took out his fiddle and started to play,
A tune to change night into day.
It's well I remember the first day of May.
The hall was all crowded, the dancers were gay,
And Tommy was up there on stage with the rest,
As they danced the sun down in the west.
And blacker than midnight and still as the tomb,
The gypsies were there at the end of the room,
And then the young woman she stretched out her hand,
And slowly walked up to the band.
The band were all silent and not a man spoke,
As she pulled out a fiddle from under her cloak,
And the tune that she played was The Devil's Delight,
A tune to change day into night!
Like a ghost in a dream then young Tommy joined in.
With a wave of her hand then she beckoned to him,
And she led him on down to the edge of the room,
And out through the trees and the gloom.
Next day at the crossroads his fiddle was found,
All the splinters and wires on the grey mossy ground.
Some said it was love that had borne him away,
And others they'd rather not say.
So that very same morning I left that dark land.
I left them their sheep and I left them their band,
And I left them to follow the city man's way,
And I haven't been back to this day.
Yes, it's many's the year now and still I recall,
Every Saturday evening the dance in the hall,
The lasses were handsome us lads were half-tight,
As we danced through the long summer's night.
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