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A little book of tribune verse

A number of hitherto uncollected poems, grave and gay

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THE FIDDLER.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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128

THE FIDDLER.

Flip! Zip! Tweedle dee dum,
Nimble fingers and pliant thumb;
Flip! Zip! Tweedle dee dee,
Why don't every one envy me?
Flip! Zip! Straight as a pin,
Fiddle nestling under my chin,
All the world's people,
And all that you see,
Can never make aught
But a fiddler of me.
(Attributed to) Emil Wolff. November 28th, 1882.