Classic Poem

Tune — The King of France, he rade a race

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 squeels,
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 pike
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!