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I stepped into a bar one night in a place in Newfoundland,
To have a beer to pass the time and listen to the band;
As I sipped slowly from my glass I gazed around the hall,
There's not one person here I know, so I guess I'll just move on.
So when I finished off my beer I started for the door,
I saw an old man at a table sitting by the washroom door;
There was something strange about him, his hair was snowy white,
You could see the pain upon his face shining through the dim view light.
I stood aside his table, his tears mixed with his smile,
Do you mind if I sit down, sir, and talk to you awhile?
As I sat down I noticed by his feet there on the floor,
A real old fashioned fiddle like you've never seen before.
He leaved his hand, I shook it, his grip firm and secure,
Said, I couldn't help but notice your fiddle on the floor;
Oh, won't you play a tune for me? Fiddle music I adore.
"I haven't played that fiddle, boy, since nineteen forty-four.
"I haven't played that fiddle and I know you wonder why."
As he told me his story the tears flowed from his eyes.
"I'm going to show you something no one else has seen I swear."
Tucked inside that fiddle case were two locks of golden hair.
"I played with a band once a long, long time ago,
We were on our way to Corner Brook to do a Newfie show;
A new tune I had written that had never seen the light,
So I asked my wife if she would drive while I tried to make it right.
"As we drove along the highway on that moonlit winter's night,
In the back seat I did practice to try and make that new tune right;
We hit a slippery patch of road, my wife just lost control,
I felt a bump, I heard a crash, then the car just left the road.
"I came to sometime later and this is what I'd seen:
My wife and daughter they were dead in that crumpled up machine;
I pulled them from the wreckage, they lay dead there on the ground,
So I cut a lock of golden hair from each one's precious crown.
"I placed them in that fiddle case and made a vow to God above,
On this earth no more I'd ever play as a token of my love;
That's why I can't play that fiddle, boy, I hope you'll understand,
That you might be with me here today or by the skids of one night stand.
"But we'll meet someday in heaven up around God's golden throne,
And I will play that fiddle just like in the days of old;
I'll give them back their golden locks and they'll smile through their tears,
Oh to know I had a part of them that I carried through the years.
Oh to know I had a part of them that I carried through the years."
