Fiddle Man © David Davis These poems, stories, songs, quote, and art have been gathered from all over the world, partly via FIDDLE-L, an online list for fiddlers and those who love fiddle music. dhebert@crocker.com

Fiddle Man by David Davis The old man took the fiddle, his glasses perched just right. Trembling hands caressed the bow, and made the notes take flight. His heart a-flutter, as the music swept around the border of memories; lovingly held close. The country crowd waltzed around the hall, as generations had before. They wheeled in step and turned in time, as they whirled around the floor. The fiddle man played winter blasts, and spring's enduring rains. He fiddled sharp the happiness, the bitterness and pain. He fiddled love and all he'd seen, in all his ninety years. He fiddled broken lover's hearts till he brought them all to tears. When the dance was over, He took his hat and hickory cane, He smiled at his audience, and he never played again. His kind old heart gave up that night, He found eternal rest. The mountains lost their biggest soul, Now, he plays for heaven's guests. But sometimes in the springtime, after a cooling evening rain, they say he walks the mountain trails and fiddles there again. You can hear the wistful music up on Fiddler's Ridge, as it echoes down the hollows past the old upper pasture bridge. © 1996, David Davis, writer and cartoonist. All rights reserved. Used with permission.