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.