This was my 2015 Christmas present to my longtime friend and neighbor, Bob Niedbalski (who was, for about 36 years, I think, married to my fine, Irish Friend, Martini Emmart-Niefbalski, who died all-too-young, at only age 70, about six years ago……and, yes, I keep the dates vague in my head)

“The Fiddler of Dooney”
pastel, watercolor, and pencil


When I play on my fiddle in Dooney.
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.

I passed my brother and cousin:
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.

When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state,
He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;

For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle,
And the merry love to dance:

And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With 'Here is the fiddler of Dooney!'
And dance like a wave of the sea.

—Wm. Butler Yeats, 1899