Chorus

I am a fiddler to my trade, An’ a’ the tunes that e’er I played, The sweetest still to wife or maid, Was whistle 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 Daddie Care Sing whistle owre the lave o’t. I am, &c.

Sae merrily’s the banes we’ll pyke, An’ sun oursel’s about the dyke; An’ at our leisure, when ye like, We’ll whistle owre the lave o’t. I am, &c.

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. I am, &c.