Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

444 . Song—A Fiddler in the North

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,

She dirl’d them aff fu’ clearly, O:

When there cam’ a yell o’ foreign squeels,

That dang her tapsalteerie, O.

Their capon craws an’ queer “ha, ha’s,”

They made our lugs grow eerie, O;

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,

That dang them tapsalteerie, O.