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Yeats poem

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.

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Playing Since: 2007
Experience Level: Novice

Interests:
[Jamming] [Socializing] [Helping]

Occupation: woodworker

Gender: Male
Age: 60

My Instruments:
Borrowed fiddle made in Czecho-Slovakia

Favorite Bands/Musicians:
Rumblestrip, Notorius, Wild Asparagus, Airdance (W/Dave S.), Einstein's Little Homunculus


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Profile Info:
Visible to: Public
Created 2/9/2008
Last Visit 8/6/2015

A contradancer & dance rhythm guitar player who after watching fiddlers for ten years decided that it couldn't be all THAT hard...

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