| |
| WHA wadna be in love | |
| Wi’ bonnie Maggie Lauder? | |
| A piper met her gaun to Fife, | |
| And speired what was ’t they ca’d her. | |
| Right scornfully she answered him, | 5 |
| “Begone, you hallanshaker! | |
| Jog on your gate, you bladderskate! | |
| My name is Maggie Lauder.” | |
| |
| “Maggie,” quo’ he, “and by my bags, | |
| I ’m fidgin’ fain to see thee; | 10 |
| Sit down by me, my bonnie bird, | |
| In troth I witma steer thee; | |
| For I ’m a piper to my trade, | |
| My name is Rob the Ranter; | |
| The lasses loup as they were daft | 15 |
| When I blow up my chanter.” | |
| |
| “Piper,” quo’ Meg, “hae ye your bags, | |
| Or is your drone in order? | |
| If ye be Rob, I ’ve heard of you,— | |
| Live you upo’ the Border? | 20 |
| The lasses a’, baith far and near, | |
| Hae heard o’ Rob the Ranter; | |
| I ’ll shake my foot with right gude-will, | |
| Gif you ’ll blow up your chanter.” | |
| |
| Then to his bags he flew wi’ speed, | 25 |
| About the drone he twisted; | |
| Meg up and walloped o’er the green, | |
| For brawly could she frisk it. | |
| “Weel done!” quo’ he. “Play up!” quo’ she. | |
| “Weel bobbed,” quo’ Rob the Ranter; | 30 |
| “’T is worth my while to play indeed | |
| When I hae sic a dancer.” | |
| |
| “Weel hae you played your part,” quo’ Meg; | |
| “Your cheeks are like the crimson; | |
| There ’s nane in Scotland plays sae weel | 35 |
| Since we lost Habbie Simpson. | |
| I ’ve lived in Fife, baith maid and wife, | |
| These ten years and a quarter; | |
| Gin’ ye should come to Ansler Fair, | |
| Speir ye for Maggie Lauder.” | 40 |
| |
