Any of about 65 species of decapods (genus Uca) whose males hold one claw, always much larger than the other, somewhat like a violin. Both claws of the female are relatively small. Fiddler crabs often live in large numbers on beaches in temperate to tropical regions of the world. They inhabit water-covered burrows up to about 1 ft (30 cm) deep and feed on algae and other organic matter. Common North American species (e.g., marsh fiddler, china-back fiddler) live all along the U.S. Atlantic coast. Brightly coloured, they range in body size from about 1 to 1.2 in. (2.5 to 3 cm).
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The story of Fiddler's Green was published anonymously in a 1923 U.S. Cavalry Manual, and is still used by modern cavalry units to memorialize the deceased. The name has had other military uses. Fiddler’s Green was an artillery Fire Support Base in Military Region III in Vietnam in 1972 occupied principally by elements of 2nd Squadron, 11th Armored Cavalry, and also was the name of the U.S. Navy's enlisted mens club in Sasebo, Japan in the early 1960s. Fiddlers Green is the name of the stable and pasture used by Parsons Mounted Cavalry, a cadet group at Texas A&M University in College Station, Texas, and that of the bar at the Leaders Club in Fort Knox, Kentucky.
A song based on Fiddler's Green was written and copyrighted by John Connolly, a Lincolnshire, England songwriter, and has since passed into tradition and is sung worldwide in nautical and Irish traditional circles. Fiddler's Green is also the name of a song by Canadian rock band The Tragically Hip, released in 1991. There is a Fiddler's Green Road in Ancaster, Ontario, Canada.
The cavalrymen's poem is as follows:
Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.