Роберт Бернс (Robert Burns)

Amang the Trees

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, Strathspey, or Reels,
  She dirl’d them aff fu’ clearly, O,
When there cam a yell o’ foreign squeals,
  That dang her tapsalteerie O.

Their capon craws and queer ha ha’s,
  They made our lugs grow eerie O;
The hungry bike did scrape and fyke
  Till we were was and wearie 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.

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