Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 444. Song—A Fiddler in the North |
| | | | | Tune—“The King o’ France he rade a race.” |
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| AMANG the trees, where humming bees, | |
| At buds and flowers were hinging, O, | |
| Auld Caledon drew out her drone, | |
| And to her pipe was singing, O: | |
| ’Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys, and Reels, | 5 |
| She dirl’d them aff fu’ clearly, O: | |
| When there cam’ a yell o’ foreign squeels, | |
| That dang her tapsalteerie, O. | |
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| Their capon craws an’ queer “ha, ha’s,” | |
| They made our lugs grow eerie, O; | 10 |
| The hungry bike did scrape and fyke, | |
| Till we were wae and weary, O: | |
| But a royal ghaist, wha ance was cas’d, | |
| A prisoner, aughteen year awa’, | |
| He fir’d a Fiddler in the North, | 15 |
| That dang them tapsalteerie, O. | |
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