The Fiddler of Dooney (by WB YEATS)
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 Moharabuiee. | |
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. |