Wha wadna be in love wi' bonnie Maggie Lauder ?
A piper met her gaun to Fife,
An' speir'd what was't they ca'd her,
Richt scornfully she answered him,
"Begone ye hallan shaker,
Jog on your gait.
My name is Maggie Lauder!"
"Maggie," quo' he, "and by my bags,
I'm fidgin' fain to see thee ;
Sit down by me, my bonnie bird,
In troth I winna steer thee.
For I'm a piper to my trade,
My name is Rob the Ranter ;
The lasses loup as they were daft
Whan I blaw up my chanter.
"Piper," quo' Meg, "ha'e you your bags ?
Or is your drone in order ?
If ye be Rob, I've heard o' you,
Live you upon the border ?
The lasses a', baith far and near,
Ha'e heard o' Rob the Ranter ;
I'll shake my foot wi' richt guid will,
Gif you'll blaw up your chanter."
Then to his bags he flew wi' speed,
About the drone he twistet ;
Meg up and wallop'd o'er the green,
For brawly could she frisk it.
"Weel done," quo' he - "play up," quo' she,
"Weel bobb'd," quo' Rob the Ranter ;
"'Tis worth my while to play indeed,
When I ha'e sic a dancer."
"Weel ha'e you play'd your part," quo' Meg,
"Your cheeks are like the crimson ;
There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel,
Since we lost Habbie Simpson.
I've liv'd in Fife, baith maid and wife,
These ten years and a quarter ;
Gin ye should come to Anster fair,
Spier ye for Maggie Lauder."