Through mony a cottage roof o’ thatch,
When passin’ by the soun’ ye’’ll catch,
And fain would lissen at the latch,
Tae hear the country Fiddlers.

Or, if when danderin’ doon the glen,
Or passin’ by a loanin’ en’,
Ye hear the chirl, ye’r bound tae ken,
Ye’r near a Country Fiddler.

Near any village you pass through,
Glenarm, Cairncastle, or Raloo,
Craigs, Owencloughy, Ballee, too,
Ye’ll hear the Country Fiddlers.

The Feis, of course, is close at hand,
Tae wun the cup they a’ ha’e planned,
So be prepared tae mak’ the jaunt
Tae hear the Country Fiddlers.

Ye’ll no’ hear Minuets in G,
Beethoven nor Pader-ewski,
Nor mournful Bach tae moist your e’e,
Frae any Country Fiddler.

But hornpipes, jigs and saucy reels,
Tae glint your e’e and itch your heels,
Ah! did ye ken what like it feels
Tae be a Country Fiddler.

We maybe dinny strict adhere,
Tae a’ the sharps and flats sae dear,
Tae them that has nae got the ear,
Tae be a Country Fiddler.

We term such music pure humbug,
Mair like the yoolin’ o’ a dug,
For maist we ken we learnt by lug,
Did we, the Country Fiddlers.

So we’ll foregather yince again,
And dae oor best wi’ might and main,
The reputation tae maintain,
O’ every Country Fiddler.

Tae satisfy ye yin and a’,
Jist meet us at Victoria Ha’,
And pass yer judgement there ad. Val.
On us the Country Fiddlers.

by John Clifford.

Enjoy yer music.