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A Fiddler In The North

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.

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