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(St Anne's Reel)
He was stranded in some tiny town
On fair Prince Edward Island,
Waiting for a ship to come and find him;
A one horse place, a friendly face,
Some coffee and a tiny trace
Of fiddlin' in the distance far behind him.
A dime across the counter then
A shy hello, a brand new friend,
A walk along the street in the wintry weather;
A yellow light, an open door,
A "Welcome friend, there's room for more."
Soon, they're standing there inside, together.
He said, "I've heard that tune before somewhere,
But I can't remember when;
Was it on some other friendly shore, did I hear it on the wind?
Was it written on the sky above?
I think I heard it from someone I love,
But I never heard it sound so sweet since then."
How his feet begin to tap,
A little boy says, "I'll take your hat."
He's caught up in the magic of his smile.
Then leaps the heart inside him,
When off across the floor he sends
His clumsy body, graceful as a child.
He said, "There's magic in the fiddler's arms,
And there's magic in this town;
There's magic in the dancers' feet
From the way they put them down."
Smiling people everywhere,
Boots and ribbons and locks of hair,
Laughter and old blue suits and Easter gowns.
The sailor's gone, the room is bare,
The old piano's sitting there;
Someone's hat's left hanging on the rack.
Some empty chairs, the wooden floor
That feels the touch of shoes no more,
Waiting for the dancers to come back.
And the fiddle's in the closet of some daughter of the town,
Strings are broke and the bow is gone,
And the case is buttoned down;
But often on December nights,
When the air is cold and the wind is right,
There's a melody comes passing through this town.
