(John Conolly / Bill Meek)
Chorus:
The journeyman fiddler's hand is still
No more he'll play the rover
The piper sleeps beneath the hill
And dancing days are over
When we were lads of long ago the dance was all our pleasure
The lively breaks and the friendly face, the music and the measure
'Twas in and out and round about and swing her down the middle
The rousing ranting rattling drum, the music of the whistle
And in the gloomy winter day the sky was like a cinder
My boots along the alleyway, they ran like flint and tinder
I danced to drive the dark away, to break the ties that bound me
And through the mirk and through the rain the sparks they danced around me
The dancing days are dying now, the music loud and crazy
The lads and lassies don't know how to move their bodies easy
There ain't the men to make the tunes, there ain't the boys to play them
A bunch of boys to make a noise and fifty fools to pay them
Five and forty years are gone since we were lads and leaping
The dancing feet are weary now, the smiling eyes are weeping
Where are the dancing Englishmen who sang for celebration
When England learns to dance again she'll prove a wiser nation
As sung by The McCalmans