Jack O'Rion was the finest fiddler ever fiddled on the string

He could drive young ladies wild with a tune his wires would sing

He could fiddle the fish out of salt water, water from a marble stone

Or milk from out a maiden's breast though baby she had none

There he played in the castle hall and there he played them fast asleep

Except it was for the young countess who, for love, she stayed awake

So first he played her a slow air and then he played it brisk and gay

And oh, dear love, behind her glove, this lady she did say