444. Song—A Fiddler in the North
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.
Poem by
Robert Burns
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Robert Burns
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on 444. Song—A Fiddler in the North
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem 444. Song—A Fiddler in the North here.