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 dirld them aff fu clearly, O:
When there cam a yell o foreign squeels,
That dang her tapsalteerie, O.
Their capon craws an queer ha, has,
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 casd,
A prisoner, aughteen year awa,
He fird a Fiddler in the North,
That dang them tapsalteerie, O.
