He was stranded in a tiny town on fair Prince Edward Isle,
A waitin' on a ship to come and find him.
A one-horse place, a friendly face, some coffee and a tiny trace
Of fiddlin' in the distance far behind him.
A dime across the counter then a shy hello, a brand new friend
And a walk along the street in the wintry-weather.
A yellow light, an open door, a "Welcome friend, there's room for more."
And then they're standing there inside together.

He said, I've heard that tune before somewhere, but I don't remember when.
Was it on some other friendly shore or (did I hear it) on the wind?
Was it written on the sky above – could’ve heard it from someone I loved?
But I never heard a sound so sweet since then.

And now his feet begin to tap a little boy says, "I'll take yer hat."
He's caught up in the magic of her smile.
__Leap the heart inside him went and off across the floor he sent
His clumsy body, graceful as a child.

He said, There's magic in the fiddler's arms, and there's magic in this town.
There's magic in the dancers' feet and the way they pull them down.
People smiling everywhere, boots and ribbons, locks of hair,
Laughter, old blue suits and Easter gowns.

The sailor's gone, the room is bare, the old piano's sittin' there;
Someone's hat's left hanging on the rack.
Empty chairs and the wooden floor that feels the touch of shoes no more,
Awaitin' for the dancers to come back.

And the fiddle's in the closet of some Daughter of the town.
The strings are broke, the bow is gone and the cover's buttoned down;
But sometimes on December nights when the air is cold and the wind is right, there's a melody that passes through the town.