| He was stranded in some tiny town
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| On fair Prince Edward Isle
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| Awaitin' for a ship to come and find him
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| A one-horse place, a friendly face
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| Some coffee and a tiny trace
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| Of fiddlin' in the distance far behind him
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| A dime across the counter then
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| A shy hello, a brand new friend
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| A walk along the street in the wintry weather
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| A yellow light, an open door
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| And a welcome friend, there’s room for more
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| And then they’re standing there inside together
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| He said I’ve heard that tune before somewhere
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| But I can’t remember when
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| Was it on some other friendly shore
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| Or did I hear it on the wind
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| Was it written on the sky above
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| I think I heard it from someone I loved
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| But I never heard it sound so sweet since then
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| Now his feet begin to tap
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| A little boy says I’ll take your hat
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| He’s caught up in the magic of her smile
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| And leap the heart inside him went
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| And off across the floor he sent
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| His clumsy body graceful as a child
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| He said there’s magic in the fiddler’s arm
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| There’s magic in this town
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| There’s magic in the dancers' feet
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| And the way they put them down
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| People smilin' everywhere
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| Boots and ribbons, locks of hair
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| And laughter and old blue suits and easter gowns
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| Now the sailors' gone, the room is bare
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| The old piano settin' there
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| Someone’s hat’s left hanging on the rack
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| And empty chairs, the wooden floor
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| That feels the touch of shoes no more
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| Awaitin' for the dancers to come back
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| And the fiddle’s in the closet
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| Of some daughter of the town
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| The strings are broke and the bow is gone
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| And the cover’s buttoned down
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| But sometimes on December nights
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| When the air is cold and the wind is right
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| There’s a melody that passes through this town |