Casey the musician lay dying in his van
And time was running out for the old travelling man
His sons and his daughters sobbed by his death bed
Till in a faint whisper their dying dad to them said

Tomorrow I won't see the dawning of the day
But I had a good life lived to be old and gray
For I played my fiddle at many a fair
And I was not one ever burdened by care.

Since we buried your mother my beloved wife
Some of the enjoyment went out of my life
But I had my music my grief antidote
And I enjoyed the life of the wandering poet.

My children for me I don't want you to weep
But John on my pipe will you pipe me to sleep
For I loved good music and guinness and beer
And I wish to die with a song in my ears.

They propped the dying Casey up in his bed
with pillows and blankets at his back and head
And John on the tin whistle played his dad's favourite tune
The one he often piped at the horse fairs of June.

One who made the World to live in a happier place
Old Casey was dying with a smile on his face
Into the hereafter he was piped away
And stories of his travels still recalled today.

In their horse drawn van through the green old country-side
With his wife and their children he travelled far and wide
And at horse fairs and pubs he piped and he sang
And the sounds of applause in his ears often rang.

The ways of the travellers like the ways of rhyme
Have changed very much with the passing of time
And the old horse drawn vans are no more to be seen
A fast decaying memory of once what had been

The king of his clan and the pride of his race
Old Casey he died with a smile on his face
He travelled the roads of the green country-side
And for music he lived and to music he died.

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