Best Fiddler Poems
There was a fiddler. How he loved to play!
He had two sons. In wooden shoes they’d clog
while he would fiddle, and his little dog
would prance with them! They didn’t always stay
inside their little shack, for sometimes they
would go out to the porch. There was a frog
who’d come to visit them and all agog,
that frog would watch the merry group all day.
The frog was fond of music, so he’d croak
the fiddler’s tune in singing froggy style.
The fiddler and his sons would laugh and joke
to hear the frog sing for them all the while.
The hopping frog danced with the dog and folk.
“By gosh,” they said, “that frog’s sure versatile!”
Jan. 23, 2023
for The Fiddler And The Frog Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
For Brian Strand's Contest begun Feb. 12,2023
Mocking the dead, is that a thing?
How many ways can one be disrespecting?
Laws that cause offenders to be free?
Rape kits that exist only to be not breached.
Little lies and big divides of right and wrong genocide.
Our forefathers could not ever predict
We would be as disrespectful as this.
Ancestors bones surely roll like river
As the wicked become powerful while weak lips quiver
Fowl language and worse ethics morale and actions
Political powers that endorse for private satisfaction.
Mocking the dead what about the little kids
Who inherit the earth in the shape of it
We enjoyed youth clean air and water
And dirty it up for son and daughter.
Looking back only with limited views
Erasing the truth of ill will and abuse
A country started by taking from the natives
Blended into a melting pot of many races
Mocking the dead playing music head like fiddler
Warming the red bed of fire for Hitler
Are we so pompous we can never admit faults
Until it is too late and we too are lost?
Written 9/21/23 For Mocking The Dead Contest
Sponsor Silent One
One stormy night in Magalluf, it rained and rained it rained all day
By half past ten we'd had enough, time to call it all a day
Then we heard some music playing, the sweet sound of a violin
So our footsteps started straying, to the magic bar that he played in.
As we stumbled through the doorway, he clocked us with a cheerful grin
As we walked across the floorway, the strangest thing was happening
For our feet then started tapping, we didn't know quite what to think
And then our hands just started clapping before we settled down to drink
Glory Glory Hallelujah, sha la la la la la la lay
Doobee doobee doobee dooya, ole ole ole ole
Glory Glory Hallelujah, sha la la la la la lay
Doobee doobee doobee dooya, ole ole ole ole
He played fast then played it faster as people twirled around the floor
Louder than a ghetto blaster, the crowd all hollered out for more
So we got up and started dancing, we thought we'd dance the night away
The rhythms there were so entrancing, when we saw Mick the Fiddler play.
He's going wild, he's up there jumping, his fiddling fast with Irish fire
So we're up our hearts a -pumping as the tempo rises higher
He sang of joy he sang of sorrow this quite extraordinary man
He said don't think about tomorrow enjoy your pleasures while you can
Glory glory Hallelujah, shalla lalla lalla lay
Doobee doobee doobee dooya Ole ole ole ole
Glory glory Hallelujah, shalla lalla lalla lay
Doobee doobee doobee dooya, Ole ole ole ole.
TO HEAR ME SING THIS.
GO ON TO YOUTUBE.
MICK THE FIDDLER, LOUIS SPENCE
THANK YOU.
georgia's fiddler crab
waving claw attracts female....
size does matter
There once was an odd fiddler on the roof
Townsfolk thought of him as the village goof
He was a nuisance and pain
But for finding him insane
The onus was theirs for burden of proof
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
One evening some folks came around
To hear Irish fiddler, renowned-
Play magical strings
That acted like springs-
And sprung all to dance to the sound.
So grand, it soon lured an old frog
To jump from his home in a log!
He bounced up and down
Made the dancers frown-
All left Irish jig for a jog!
January 18, 2023
Contest: The Fiddler And The Frog
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
It started with the castanets, the fiddler chiming in
He had the sweetest melody, the fiddle by his chin
Suddenly, her face appeared, through mist, between the trees
The crowd stood silently because, the dancer came to please
Her long, dark hair was wild and free, her eyes were dark as night
Her body was a sight to see, so tanned and svelte and light
She leaped around the roaring fire, her graceful movements slow
The firelight inside her eyes, announced another show
The yellow flames licked at her feet, she teased them with her dance
And with the shimmer of her veils, they all fell in a trance
The people swayed from side to side, hypnotically, they fell
A hazy look was in their eyes, caught in the dancer’s spell
They swooned together with the beat, their motion was as one
And they would only be released, the time the dance was done
Soon the fiddler slowed his beat, the dancer’s steps complied
Each movement taken gingerly, she let the fiddle guide
And then she pranced into the woods, the music led the way
Until the time she would return, to dance another day
You’ve heard of Hamlin’s plague of rats, but let me share the tale
Of how an infestation struck the folk of Meadow Vale.
An army of amphibians were leaping through the land,
The villagers were hopping mad, this wasn’t what they’d planned!
Amphibians, amphibians, the folk were in despair,
In beds, in baths, in kitchen sinks, those frogs were everywhere!
Now in his simple woodland hut a fiddler played a tune,
The woodland birds stopped singing as they listened to him croon.
And in the heart of Meadow Vale vibrations filled the town
As captivating melodies came resonating down.
The ribbiting was silenced and enraptured frogs stood still,
Then one by one in single file, entranced, they climbed the hill
Until they reached the woodland hut where still the fiddler played
He led them down a winding path which led to a cascade.
He played until each frog in turn had stepped as in a dream
Into the twinkling water then they floated down the stream.
But as he turned to head back home, he heard a tiny croak,
And looking down was shocked to see a froglet in his cloak.
The frog and fiddler soon became the very best of friends.
The townsfolk breathed a thankful sigh and here my story ends.
04.02.23
The fiddler and the frog contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Write A Sweet Fairytale For Children With A Good Outcome Ending, Ie Nobody Gets Hurt :) Poetry Contest
Sponsor : BJ Legros kelley
The bow would let out a groan
the big green frog sang baritone
we had great home cooked food
with stars for the best mood
heavenly nights at the lily pad zone
Mr. Cricket the fiddler would play
on the lily pad by the bay
here we made a great friend
friends until the very end
how about another round Jay
Date Written:1/26/2023
Double Limerick
I was nineteen that summer
when I met him at a buck-out,
and I was totally smitten
by all the Cowboy charm he had.
I thought that he was rugged,
(and undeniably handsome),
then that bull slammed against the fence
and busted him up pretty bad.
I was surprised when he showed up at the dance,
he was battered and bruised but smiling,
and I heard him talking and laughing,
still high from the rush of the ride.
He said “You gotta’ pay the fiddler
if you want to dance to his tune”,
then he drifted across the floor,
said “Let’s dance” as he reached my side.
Mama told me I’d be sorry
if I ignored her and took up with him,
and I really hate to say it,
but I guess that she was right.
But when I review my memories
I know I’d do it all again,
for that “Eight Second Feeling”
of our first long kiss that night.
We used to dance for hours,
in the kitchen and on the porch
and laugh about owein’ that fiddler
and what his pay would be.
But lately there ain’t been no dancin’,
just long strings of awkward silence,
as his eyes look far and distant
and not so much at me.
Seems his spirit has grown uneasy,
as I listen to him talking
and realize it’s still Rodeo
that truly holds his heart.
Oh, I don’t mind coming in second,
heck, life is like that sometimes.
But knowing I’m invisible,
well, that’s the hardest part.
I suppose I should be angry,
but I just can’t find it in me,
‘cause I know what it’s like
to love something just that way.
I felt it when I first saw him,
in the arena and on the dance floor
and I still feel it sometimes
when I watch him walk away.
I’ve helped him struggle to pay the fiddler,
and it breaks my heart to see him weary,
so I stand in silent acceptance,
as I watch him pack his things.
I understand his leaving,
I know he won’t be coming back here,
our life together, a lesson,
one that time always seems to bring.
I walk out past the horse pens,
pull the gate shut…and I lock it,
hear my mare start to nicker
as the trailer pulls away.
I’d like to say I’ll miss him,
his past still holds my heart.
But we danced to the fiddler’s tune
and the final payment came due today.
I offer my fiddle for your pleasures
My music will certainly be a treasure
Come and dance to the lands folk lore
The beat locks a partner you will adore.
One two three, one two three tap, tap, tap
A step here and a step there is a real rap
The country fiddler’s bow plays forever joy
A unique sound concerts the floor like a toy.
One by one the stage filled with artists dancing
My fiddle is a smashing hit for this one evening
When the song and prance at last came to an end,
The listeners asked for an encore of the jazzy trend.
Around the twelfth hour, I played the final tone
A young man bowed adieu and left me all alone
How sad to see such a superb evening exist in
I lay my instrument down and into a secure bin.
When I settled to go, an admirer smiled at me.
He passed me a rose and a kiss for all to see
Thank you for the beautiful melodies tonight
The crowd and I will leave feeling alright.
Your welcome, I promise to come before long.
When I see the floor full of dancers akin to song,
My heart cries to play more tunes for all to hear.
Now I say goodbye and leave seeing no tears.
I am in awe, of castle intrigue
For I am Abu
Nuwas knows who I am
I am jealous, of this is true
Of the fiddler
For his music makes Caliphs smile
All the royal court dances in song
For he makes the hearts of young men sing
With his fiddle
As he plays musical ballads
To enchant the nobles and surfs
He brings men at arms, to think of enchantment
His music plays for all who hear
Yet his fiddle plays only for the one he loves
He can not have her, and the music knows
And if you read the musical intent
Of a lover whose heart will never be lent
You will see within the waltzes of charm
A man who has lost love and thus disarmed
Yet he plays his fiddle, for he hides the despair
And the Kings and agents of his court applaud
They see not the lost desires of a fiddler dissolve
If I were a famous poet
Ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum
All day long, I'd write a biddy biddy bum
If I were a famous man!
I wouldn't have to rhyme hard
Ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum
If I were a biddy biddy famous yidle-diddle-didle-didle poet
I'd write an excellent epic full of great adventures that thrill the world,
And see the book reprinted several times
Some would be hard-bound and some just plain and cheap.
And sure I'd be famous and rich.
And I'll be a wealthy poet.
But the best part is that I'll win an Oscar
Ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum
That's my greatest wish of all.
Alas…I’m not a poet at all.
Not to be sung :)
On edge of the marsh trills a Spring Peeper.
His pal is a fiddler, whose strum’s deeper.
Together their tune’s not bad,
yet driving the neighbor’s mad.
Their hands over ears - still not one sleeper.
The fiddler and frog with their tunes mingling,
with sun in tired eyes and marsh ears tingling,
Both perfectly contented
though neighbors, they’ve tormented.
The fiddler and frog with their trills mingling.
2/3/2023
The Fiddler and the Frog
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
The fiddler arrived
with a wry froggy grin,
and the party was born
in the dance of the bow
'cross the taut and the tuned
through the shivers of time.
The lilly pads waltzed
and the cattails all swayed
in a dream where the revelers
hopped the morning away,
while croaking the words
to their favorite song ~~
The bulls croaked their "jug o' rums",
and the tree frogs their "ribbits"
in chirruping glee until night
became dawn...