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Yeats poem

Posted by fiddlewocky on Tuesday, May 26, 2009

 The Fiddler of Dooney by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

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.

4 comments on “Yeats poem”

Cyndy Says:
Tuesday, May 26, 2009 @9:01:43 AM

Love the poem. Thanks for sharing. I decided some months ago that there MUST be fiddle music in heaven because without fiddle music, well, it just wouldn't be heaven, would it? C

fiddlewocky Says:
Tuesday, May 26, 2009 @9:37:30 AM

I am SURE there are fiddles in heaven. After all not everyone loves harp music ;)
Also, I am assured by my housemate & verified by a flute player that in Hell someone is playing Sandy Boys over & over. Poorly. To punish fiddle haters I presume.
The devil plays the fiddle, at least in Georgia... see

mudbug Says:
Tuesday, May 26, 2009 @4:18:59 PM

Ya gotta love fiddles, and ya gotta love William Butler, and as long as humans reside on this earth, both will be reverred.

hwcox Says:
Friday, May 29, 2009 @6:28:33 PM

Just lovely. Thanks for posting that.

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