Tune—"The King o' 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, Strathspeys, and 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 an' queer "ha, ha's,"

They made our lugs grow eerie,O;

The hungry bike did scrape and fyke,

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.