George Oliver's story – Scots Abroad: Stories of Scottish Emigration

On the bagpipes

When Scotland's pipe sounds in my ears
My heart with martial joy it cheers;
From off my mind all worldly cares
        It makes to roll,
And sways at will to joy or tears,
       My melting soul.

Some for the organ's solemn peal
Affect a lofty joy to feel;
Some, for dancing a quadrille,
       Choose the piano,
Or back the fiddle for a reel,
       Or waltz vienna.

Their merits I will not gainsay –
They're all respectful in their way –
While I must own that at the play
       Of the sweet fiddle
My jigging feet, perforce, obey
       Its lively diddle.

But when the pipes give utterance,
Then, houts! all vapours fly at once,
And on the floor, inspired to dance,
       Go toe and heel.
It makes the toddling wee things prance,
       So blithe they feel.