The Fiddler of Dooney

WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney
Folk dance like a wave of the sea
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet
My brother in Moharabuiee

I passed my brother and cousin
While they read in their books of prayer
I read in my book of songs
That I bought at the Sligo fair

When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state
He will smile on the three old spirits
But call me first through the gates

For the good are always the merry
Save by an evil chance
And the merry love the fiddle
And the merry love to dance

And when the folks there spy me
They will all come up to me
With ‘Here is the fiddler of Dooney!
And dance like the wave of the sea