Текст песни
By the grotto at the old spring well
He sat down for a while
With the fiddle he so cherished on his knee
Old tunes ran through his mind
As they would in exile
And the sweet notes floated gently to the sea
In his home close by the rocky shore
He feared he'd see no more
The breeze it seemed to whisper, "Won't you stay"
Departing from his kin
This new life to begin
Just another son of Ireland going away
He played his farewell song
And the birds all sang along
On that morning down beside the old millstone
Put the fiddle in its case
Tears rolled down his mother's face
Both their hearts were torn
As he walked off alone
He landed in Chicago
With his fiddle and his bow
And each night he played the tunes of Ireland
He met and wed his sweetheart
Reared a family, built a home
No more we'll ever shake that fiddler's hand
We play his farewell song
And the birds still sing along
Like that morning down beside the old millstone
Put dad's fiddle in its case
As a tear rolled down my face
Now with heavy hearts we stand here all alone
Just a story of a fiddler long ago