Classic Poem

SONG .

Alang by yon burn-side
I saw him gang yestreen, —
His fiddle upon his back
Was row'd in claith o' green.
His wifie led her Johnnie: —
O' een she had but ane;
While he, for a' his mirth,
Puir bodie! has got nane.

He canna see a blink,
Yet doesna greet an' grane
An' ither folks he hauds
Fu' cheerfu' but an' ben.
A cantie spring he plays —
A cantie sang he sings:
The Fiddler weel is kent, —
For mirth wi' him he brings.

Mony a merry nicht
The auld blind man has been
Wi' great folk in the ha' —
Wi' sma' folk on the green.
He's a welcome guest
Wherever he does gang, —
They gi'e him meat an' claes,
An' he gie's them a sang.

The fient a hair cares he
For ony mortal bodie, —
He'll geck e'en at the Minister,
An' joke wi' laird an' lady!
The duddy plaid Pretence,
He, laughin', rives in twa, —
A fool and knave the Fiddler
A fool and knave doth ca'!

O! leeze me on the Fiddler:
If we had monie mae
As blithe in heart as he,
We wou'dna be sae wae!
An' gif, like him the truth
To tell, we a' would 'gree,
The world where we live
Would meikle better be!