The Blind Fiddler

I lost my eyes in the blacksmith shop in the year of fifty-six
While dusting out a t-flange, which was out of fix
It bounded from the tongs, and there concealed my doom
I am a blind fiddler, and far from my home
I’ve been to San Francisco, I’ve been to Dr. Lane
He operated on one o' my eyes, but nothing could he gain
He told me that I’d never see, and it’s no use to mourn
I am a blind fiddler, and far from my home
I have a wife and three little ones dependin' now on me
To share all my troubles, whatever they may be
I hope that they’ll be careful, while I’m compelled to roam
I am a blind fiddler, and far from my home