O' Nature is bonny an' blythesome to see,
Wi' the gowd on her brow an' the light in her ee;
An' sweet is her summer-sang rollin' in glee,
As it thrills the heart-strings o' my fiddle an' me.

When the young mornin' blinks through amang the black cluds,
An' the southland breeze rustles out through the green wnds;
The lark in the lift, and the merle on the tree,
Baith strike the key-note to my fiddle an' me.

When amang the crisp heather upon the hill-side,
Mine ee fu' o' rapture, my soul fu' o' pride;
The wee heather lintie an' wild hinnie-bee
A' join in the strain wi' my fiddle an' me.

When daunderin' at e'en doun the dark dowie dells,
To cheer the wee gowans, an' charm the wee bells —
The sweet purling rill wimples doun to the sea,
Dancing light to the notes o' my fiddle an' me.

At kirn or at weddin', at tryst or at fair,
There's nae saul-felt music unless we be there;
Wi' a spark in my heart, an' a drap in my ee,
The vera floor loups to my fiddle an' me.

My fiddle's my life-spring, my fiddle's my a',
She clings to me close when a' else are awa';
Time may force friends to part, he may wyle faes to gree,
Death only can part my auld fiddle an' me.