Classic Poem

When I was young, I had no sense,
I bought a fiddle for eighteenpence,
And the only tune that I could play
Was " Over the Hills and Far Away. "

To learn another I had no care,
For oh, it was a wondrous air,
And all the wee things of the glen
Came out and gathered round me then.

The furry folk that dwelt in wood
Quitted their hushed green solitude,
Sat round about me, unafraid,
And skipped to the music that I made.

Birds of the moor, birds of the tree,
Took up the tune with fiddle and me,
Happy were we on that summer day
With " Over the Hills and Far Away. "