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