444. Song—A Fiddler in the North

Read '444. Song—A Fiddler in the North' by 'Robert Burns' and provide your summary and literary analysis in the comments section below.

444. Song—A Fiddler in the North by Robert Burns

 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.

Form: Ballad

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