A legendary imagined afterlife, where there is perpetual happiness, a fiddle that never stops playing, and dancers who never tire. There are endless pure green hills and the sky never goes gray. Beer flows like rivers and there is never a weary soul.
It is said you must be either an Irish sailor or a cavalryman to be worthy to enter.
When a sailor or cavalryman dies, they will enter Fiddler's Green. All of their fallen friends will be waiting for them there with two pints in hand. They will stand and watch as everyone else marches off to hell.
A Victorian English description. Fiddlers were usually paid with food and drink at social events, as were their wives or mistresses. Since the women didn't have to work by playing music, they tended to drink heavily. By the end of the event, they'd be far drunker than anybody who had to pay, or the fiddler himself.
Man, if I hadn't been drunk as a fiddler's bitch, I never would have taken that grenade for you at the club.