Complete Songs Of Robert Burns - online book

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[No. 250.]
A pigmy scraper wi1 his fiddle,
Wha us'd to trystes an' fairs to driddle,
Her strappan limb an' gausy middle
(He reach'd nae higher) Had hol'd his heartie like a riddle,
An' blawn't on fire.
Wi' hand on hainch, and upward e'e, He croon'd his gamut, one, two, three, Then in an arioso key
The wee Apollo, Set off wi' allegretto glee
His giga solo :—
Tune : Whistle owre the lave o't [Bremner's Scots Reels, 1759, p. 56.]
Let me ryke up to dight that tear, An' go wi' me an' be my dear, An' then your every care an' fear May whistle owre the lave o't.
/ am a fiddler to my trade, An' a' the tunes that e'er 1play'd, The sweetest still to wife or maid WasWhistle owre the lave o't.
At kirns an' weddins we'se be there, An' O, sae nicely's we will fare!
We'll bowse about till Dadie Care Sing, Whistle owre the lave o't.
Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyke, An' sun oursels about the dyke ; An' at our leisure, when ye like We'll whistle owre the lave o't.
But bless me wi' your heav'n o'
charms, An' while I kittle hair on thairms, Hunger, cauld, an' a' sic harms May whistle owre the lave o'.t.