I will tell you now of a tale
A tale of woe and dismay...
Of a lonely backwoods’ gentleman
He was a fiddler, so they say.
He jumped upon this rock each eve
For he was fairly known,
He let fly a furious medley
As the smoke rose from his bow.
He danced and sang all through the night
Until the moon cast its eerie glow…
It was then that all the spirits would rise,
And the demon’s grip took hold.
For as the hour grew late
Just before the dawn,
The fiddler's eyes grew cold,
With screams of a thousand banshees...
The fiddler…all at once was gone.
Its been so many years ago,
But every now and then…
you will see his shadow upon that rock...
As the old fiddler plays again.
Antony King 2018