Maggy Lauther (1824, Edinburgh)/Maggy Lauther

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Maggy Lauther.

Wha wadna be in loveWi' bonny Maggy Lauder?A piper met her her gaun to Fife,And spier'd what was't they ca'd her.Right scornfully she answer'd him,Begone ye hallanshaker;Jog on your gate, ye bladderskate,My name is Maggy Lauther.
Maggy, quo' be now by my bags,I'm fidging fain to see ye;Sit down by me, my bonny bird,In troth I winna steer ye;For I'm a piper to my trade.My name is Rob the Ranter,The lasses loup as they were daft,When I blaw up my chanter
Piper quoth Meg hae you your bags,Or is your drone in order?If you be Rob I've heard of you,Live you upon the border?The lasses a' baith far and near.Hae heard o' Rob the Ranter; ​I'll shake my fit wi' right guid will,Gif you'll blaw up your chanter.
Then to his bags he flew wi' speed,About the drone he twisted;Meg up and walloped o'er the green,For brawly could she firisk it.Weel done quoth he—play up, quoth she,Weel bob'd quoth Rob the Ranter;'Tis worth my while to play indeed,When I hae sic a dancer.
Weel hae you play'd your part, says Meg,Your cheeks are like the crimsonThere's nane in Scotland plays like you,Since we lost Rabby Simpson.I've liv'd in Fife baith maid and wife,These ten years and a quarter;Gin ye come here to Anster fair,Spier ye for Maggy Lauther.

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