I got an email today that you need no details from - but it had a line in it that surprised me.
It shouldn't have, really, but it did: "I have no clue what "Fiddler's Green" is but I hope it exists."
Fiddler's Green is a wide space on the road to hell, where there is a pub of endless capacity, where there is mirth everlasting, beer ever-flowing, good eats, dancers who never tire - and, most importantly, our brothers and sisters in arms, whether they fell in battle or to the ravages of fate and entropy.
Sailors know it, the Cavalry used to claim it exclusively, but, it's a far more egalitarian place now than back in the day. It has to be, with the logistics guys and gals dying alongside their combat arms bretheren in this war we fight. I suspect you'll see Ernie Pyle there. And Ernie Hemingway. Joe Galloway will show up to down brews with Rick Rescorla, when Joe's skein runs out.
Across the wide spot in the road-that-nevers-sees-vehicular traffic is Piddler's Green, where our furry friends, war-buddies or not, await our reunions. They, of course, have free run of Fiddler's Green, too, and can cross the road at will, without risk.
There are those who believe it originally was a construct of pirates, representative of a Heaven they otherwise will be barred access to.
Whatever.
It exists. It exists because we believe it exists. As a place in our hearts. Just as those who have passed from us are not really gone unless we forget them.
Now is the time at Castle Argghhh! when we dance for the friends of a friend: In Memoriam
It shouldn't have, really, but it did: "I have no clue what "Fiddler's Green" is but I hope it exists."
Fiddler's Green is a wide space on the road to hell, where there is a pub of endless capacity, where there is mirth everlasting, beer ever-flowing, good eats, dancers who never tire - and, most importantly, our brothers and sisters in arms, whether they fell in battle or to the ravages of fate and entropy.
Sailors know it, the Cavalry used to claim it exclusively, but, it's a far more egalitarian place now than back in the day. It has to be, with the logistics guys and gals dying alongside their combat arms bretheren in this war we fight. I suspect you'll see Ernie Pyle there. And Ernie Hemingway. Joe Galloway will show up to down brews with Rick Rescorla, when Joe's skein runs out.
Across the wide spot in the road-that-nevers-sees-vehicular traffic is Piddler's Green, where our furry friends, war-buddies or not, await our reunions. They, of course, have free run of Fiddler's Green, too, and can cross the road at will, without risk.
There are those who believe it originally was a construct of pirates, representative of a Heaven they otherwise will be barred access to.
Whatever.
It exists. It exists because we believe it exists. As a place in our hearts. Just as those who have passed from us are not really gone unless we forget them.
There is one among us who today is feeling some pain, and gave me some advice.Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.
People die.
Shit.
So, when you look into your new grandson's eyes, cherish the moment. Life is good and a gift from God.
Now is the time at Castle Argghhh! when we dance for the friends of a friend: In Memoriam
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1V3JW4HeBs
From: http://www.thebards.net/music/lyrics/Fiddlers_Green.shtml
Fiddler's Green
words and music John Conolly
As I roved by the dockside one evening so fair
To view the salt waters and take in the salt air
I heard an old fisherman singing a song
Oh, take me away boys me time is not long
Wrap me up in me oilskin and blankets
No more on the docks I'll be seen
Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip mates
And I'll see you someday on Fiddlers Green
Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell
Where the fishermen go if they don't go to hell
Where the weather is fair and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away
Now when you're in dock and the long trip is through
There's pubs and there's clubs and there's lassies there too
And the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there's bottles of rum growing on every tree.
Where the skies are all clear and there's never a gail
And the fish jump on board with one swish on their tail
Where you lie at your leisure, there's no work to do
And the skipper's below making tea for the crew
Now I don't want a harp nor a halo, not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
I'll play me old squeeze-box as we sail along
With the wind in the riggin to sing me a song
KEY D
verse:
C F G G
G F C G
F G C
C F C G7
chorus:
C G C
F G
F
C
C F G C