Now it's gents to the middle said a young girl's fiddle
And you ain't got nothin' to lose.
Alemande right she can play it all night,
She can fiddle off the bottom of your shoes.

Chorus: Oh, Me, Oh my,
How she makes that bow hair fly.
How she hangs that music in the air.

Now you promenade down to the lonesome sound
Of the Whip-poor-will in the night.
You gotta sashay back look at old man Jack
Huggin' everything in sight.

Oh Banjo Bill he stopped stock still
As the notes came rollin' by.
It filled his ears and it eased his fears
And a tear came to his eye.

Now the old string bass he's lost his place
And his arms they felt like steel.
The guitar man dropped both his hands
And he swore it was not real.

Now it's golden strings on golden wings
to the callin' of the square.
There's fiddle tunes and there's fiddle tunes,
But Virginia's splittin' hairs.

Now she’s cast a spell no tongue can tell
No prophet can reveal.
Quiet as death you hold your breath,
She’s played Virginia's reel.

written by C. Guy Clark (ASCAP)
World Song Publishing Inc.