The Fiddler of Dooney by W.B. Yeats

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 Moharabuiee.

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.