The Fiddling Fiddler of Fiddle Dee Dee
would riddle throughout the town so merrily.
He would prance and he’d dance and he’d jump joyfully
as he bounded around, it sounded beautifully.
Yes, the riddling fiddler could fiddle quite fine.
He could turn rotten water into red wine,
and make sick dying daisies shine. Oh, how divine!
Some said he’s a savior, a saint, or a sign.
The villagers gathered on cobblestone streets,
and all the children would laugh while tapping feet
to the tune of the blissful and mirthful musician.
His songs were everything they had been wishin’
But, the fiddling riddler’s melody would move.
He had many more sets of souls left to soothe,
and he’d play his pleasant piece right on through time
’til, one day, his song hadn’t the same chirpy chime.
For many years later, in a country afar,
the people now played the electric guitar.
No longer did folks wear tights or feathered hats;
they wore cut-off t-shirts with holes in their pants.
So, what did he do? Well, he started a band.
He landed a gig, but had no helping hand.
His music with instruments from olden days
Could only part rock n’ roll crowds separate ways.
He tried playing bells, but they just wouldn’t do.
The bugle, triangle and flute all fell through.
The trumpet and bagpipe didn’t work out.
After playing the harp he was ready to shout.
No matter his effort, he knew he would fail.
His efforts were useless and to no avail.
To what he concluded, I think you’ll concur.
He was best suited for renaissance theater.
So, they play on the weekends from five until eight.
I’ve heard great reviews, so try not to be late
to their Broadway production; make sure that you see
The Fiddling Fiddler of Fiddle Dee Dee.