( 3 )
Meg up and wallop'd o'er the green,
for brawly could she frisk it
Well done, quo' he, play up, quo' she,
well bob'd, quo' Rob the Ranter,
'Tis worth my while to play, quo' he,
when I get sic a dancer.
Well hae ye play'd your part, quo' Meg,
your cheeks are like the crimson
There's nane in Scotland plays like you,
since we lost Habbie Simson:
I've liv'd in Fife baith maid and wife,
these ten years and a quarter
When ye come there to Anster fair,
speer ye for Maggy Lauther.
Then Rob he rous'd and took the road,
and round all Fife he ranted,
And play'd a spring thro' Siller dykes,
as merry Meg he wanted:
And as he enter'd Anster town,
his drone it sounded louder.
His bags he blew till the chanter flew,
no pipes was ever prouder.
Then Meg came gigling to the door,
and saw her bairns father,
O mind not ye, ye danc'd wi' me
your bonny Maggy Lauther:
Which makes me rue that day sinsyne
that e'er I heard your chanter,
But now I hope you'll marry me,
my bonny Rob the Ranter.
