Papa brought his fiddle to the new frontier And many a night it brought us cheer when he'd play for us
My papa had an old homemade fiddle whittled out of a piece of pinewood Lord knows it didn't look like much but it sounded mighty good And when the chores were done after supper papa'd take that old fiddle down He'd sit there in an old cane bottom chair and all of us kids would gather round
Though the times were hard on the frontier papa never made a fuss And somehow the world seemed to be a little bit brighter when he'd play for us I could always tell just about how he felt he'd sit there and close his eyes And that old fiddle would almost talk sometime I'd swear it's gonna cry
Then there was the time when mama took sick the joy in our home was gone One night she called papa close to her bed and I heard her say papa play me a song I saw the tears roll down his cheek he turned toward the wall He took that old fiddle under his chin he stood there straight and tall
Now the years have gone by and thoughts of hard times have almost faded away But the mem'ry of papa's old fiddle well I think that'll always stay Sometimes I can almost hear it at the close of a day And I remember just how much it meant to me when my papa used to play
