Music and Stories

My grandfather had a fiddle

Though I never heard him play

An old man when I knew him

I guess he’d had his day

But I heard the story told

How a lady would not dance

Unless my granddad played for her

He had the rhythm for romance


I remember waistcoat whiskers

Pocket watch in place

White silk scarf around his neck

Flat cap too to grace

Gentle quiet way with him

Power packed dynamo

Miner at the coalface

Hard as nails you know


In demand for dances

In the days of youth

Played his fiddle everywhere

No lie it’s the truth

His mother wouldn’t let him play

Anywhere in the home

The music made her cry she said

Would melt a heart of stone


Had I been at home those times

I would have taken him for a beer

And maybe learned his stories

About his yesteryear

About the places where he played

And made a merry tune

Those days are gone and he is too

All gone all gone too soon


Brian Fahy

26 April 2022


+ I see on obituary today that speaks about a man who was a great musician, and very witty and a great storyteller. It brought to mind my grandfather whose hands worked hard but who had the gift of music in them.

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