The Fiddler's Farewell

"To fiddle at frolics I find is invain; No creature alive will attend to my strain, And I and my dog must be trudging again; The strings of the fiddle Are broke in the middle Excepting the bass which I never could bear, And to make a new purchase, I've nothing to spare,

The village all knew it, and car'd not a pin: The night was so cold, and my coat was so thin I shook like a leaf when the ladies came in; They thought it a joke That the fiddle was broke, And never once offer'd my strings to repair, But begg'd of Van Tweezle to give them an air.

Van Tweezle began in so dismal a tone, All thought he had better have let it alone; When the folks were to dance they did nothing but grean, Old captain O'Blunder Was brim-full of wonder, And said, "My dear boy, such a whining you keep, You have hit on a tune that will set us to sleep."

Yet, still he went on to our utter surprise, And sung till the ladies had tears in their eyes, And Bunyan we thought, had return'd in disguise: We waited so long For the close of his song, That most of us thought he would never conclude, His muses were in such a musical mood. Old ditties he sung that are fairly worn out; The wars of the Jews, that were compass'd about Whom Titus, the Roman, had put to the rout: We all were in pain To be puzzled again, For ten times before we had heard them, at least, And far better told by the nurse and the priest.