The Fiddler

The fiddler's fingers bend upon the soundboard
As steady as the hand that draws the bow
The silence before horsehair hits the cattagut
Is the quiet before a heavy fall of snow
I remember Driscoll's shanty says the fiddler
The sound of sea boots on the wooden floor
As we played and the wind turned round a quarter
And morning found them far from Scotland's shore
The faces are all hid behind the quavers
A thin veneer to paper up the cracks
Breaks like crazy on the varnish
Forgetfulness is what my memory lacks
The fiddler's fingers bend upon the soundboard
As steady as the hand that draws the bow
The silence before horsehair hits the cattagut
Is the quiet before a heavy fall of snow