When I was a callan jist entered my teens,
Wi' my ain penny savin's an' help o' my freens,
I managed tae gether a pickle o' tin
Tae buy ye in Glesca, my auld violin.
I min' when I got ye hoo prood I was then,
I couldna' been mair sae tho' laird o' the glen;
As I lovingly cuddled ye under my chin
I vowed I wad cherish my auld violin.
The first time I tried ye yer notes soonded queer,
But at scrapin' an' shiftin' I did persevere;
"The Last Rose o' Simmer" and "Father O'Flynn"
I sune learned tae play on my auld violin.
I thocht when I'd learned weel tae han'le the bow
There had ne'er been aic-like since the days o' Neil Gow;
For Skinner or Murdoch I cared na a pin
As I drew oot the chords frae my auld violin.
Ye gaed tae the concerts, the waddin's, and balls,
An' encores were rife frae the pit an' the stalls;
An' the youths wi' the dancin' were fain tae begin
When they heard the blithe lilt o' my auld violin.
Tho' hard be my fortune an' sair be my toil
Tae gain me a leevin' frae mine or frae soil,
I'll sit by the fire when my day's darg is dune,
An' drive awa' care wi' my auld violin.
When the Trumpet shall soun' an' the ca' shall go forth,
Tae the east, tae the wast, tae the sooth, an' the north,
When they that are ready shall be a' gethered in,
I fain wad be there wi' my auld violin.