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About
My fidil is singing Into the air; The wind is stirring, The moon is fair. A shadow wanders Along the road; It stops to listen, And drops its load. Dreams for a space Upon the moon, Then passes, humming My mountain tune. THE GOAT-DEALER Did you see the goat-dealer All in his jacket green? I met him on the rocky road 'Twixt this and Baile-doirin. A hundred nannies ran before, And a she-ass behinid, And then the old wanderer himself, Burnt red with sun and wind.