The bagpipe man came over our hill
When no one knew he was anywhere round,
With a whirl and skirl, a toot and a trill;
And we all went scampering after the sound.
We cried, “oh, tell us, what do you play?
What do you play so queer, so queer?”
And he skipped a couple of notes to say,
“But tell me what do you hear?”

Then one of us heard a trumpet sweet,
And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching men;
And one of us heard the dancing feet
Of fairies in a dusky glen;
And one of us called it a bird in June,
And one a river that ran, and ran.
But he never would tell us the name of his tune,
The funny old bagpipe man!