[Verse 1] The village fiddler, known both far and wide, Played through all the landskape across the countryside. When morning mist lay white on field and shore, From every farm they gathered right outside his door. He held his bow as if it bore a name, And song by song turned into warmth and flame. [Verse 2] In the cabin by the river, with its floor of pine, Heavy boots would stomp along in perfect time. He turned the heaviest grief to light as air, And softened hardened souls in evening prayer. [Pre-Chorus] And as twilight fell on roof and sod, He took a breath and let the silence fade. [Chorus] The village fiddler, His fiddle carried home, Where the heart wants to stay, When he drew his first note, The world stood still. [Verse 3] He rode by horse through forest and through moor, Wrapping his fiddle safe against the storm. In every little town, a spark would turn to fire, As his melody rang out from gate to spire. [Verse 4] The people nodded, hearing what he said, They knew the flame was ready to be made. [Bridge] Yet his melody is heard in winter's chill, In a child who learns to play upon the hill. His name remains, and those who learn his art Will sing his songs and play them from the heart. [Chorus] The village fiddler, His fiddle carried home, Where the heart wants to stay, When he drew his first note, The world stood still.
