Robert W. Service, 'Fiddler'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Fiddler

Oh! I have built a house at last,
To fill with music night and say;
For I have laboured in the past
And had so small a time to play.
My house is of a whin-grey stone;
Its walls are bare for poor I be,
But with my fiddle all alone,
I'll have rare company.

My fiddle's old and so am I.
For it I've often longed in vain.
Bleak years and years I've layed it bye,
But now I'll take it up again.
For in four frail gut strings I know
All music sleeps for me to wake,
And here before the peat-fire glow
Fine melody I'll make.

( I'll leave my fiddle by the bed, )

By Robert W. Service