Amang the trees, where humming bees 
At buds and flowers were hinging, O, 
Auld Caledon drew out he 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!
[…]

by Robert Burns