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The Fiddler of Dooney
| When I play on my fiddle in Dooney, | | Folk dance like a wave of the sea; | | My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet, | | My brother in Mocharabuiee. | | | | | | I passed my brother and cousin: | | They read in their books of prayer; | | I read
in my book of songs | | I bought at the Sligo fair. | | | | | | When we come at the end of time | | To Peter sitting in
state, | | He will smile on the three old spirits, | | But call me first through the gate; | | | | | | For the good are always
the merry, | | Save by an evil chance, | | And the merry love the fiddle, | | And the merry love to dance: | | | | | | And
when the folk there spy me, | | They will all come up to me, | | With ‘Here is the fiddler of Dooney!’ | | And dance
like a wave of the sea. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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