©David Mallett

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 smiling face, some coffee, and a tiny trace
	Of fiddling in the distance far behind him.

A dime across the counter, then a shy "hello", a brand new friend,
	They walked across the street in the wintery weather,
A yellow light, an open door, and a "Welcome friend, there's room for more!"
	And then they're standing there inside together.
He said "I've heard that tune somewhere before, but I can't remember when
Was it on some other friendly shore, or did I hear it on the wind?
	Was it written in the sky above?
	I think I heard it from someone I love,
But I've never heard it sound so sweet since then."

Now his feet begin to tap, a little boy says "I'll take your hat!"
	He's caught up in the magic of a smile.
Then ‘leap' the heart inside him went, and off across the floor he sent
	His clumsy body, graceful as a child
He said "There's magic in the fiddler's arm, there's magic in this town,
Magic in the dancers' feet, and the way they put them down."
	People smiling everywhere,
	Boots and ribbons, locks of hair,
Laughter, and old blue suits, and Easter gowns.

Now the sailor's gone, the room is bare, the old piano's sitting there,
	Someone's hat's left hanging on the rack.
Empty chairs, a 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,
The strings are broke, the bow is gone, and the cover's buttoned down,
	But sometimes on December nights,
	When the air is cold and the wind is right
There's a melody that passes through this town.