Page:Woodpecker (1).pdf/4

 The kintry a' baith far snd near, has heard of Rab the Ranter. I'll shake my foot wi' right good will, go ye will blaw your chanter.

Then to his bags he flew wi' speed, and round his drone he twisted, Meg up and wallop'd o'er the green, for could she frisk it. Well done quo' he, play up qou'quo' [sic] she, well bob'd quo Rab the Runter, 'Tis worth my while to play, quo' he, when I got 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 puarter, When ye come there to Amst'er fair, spier 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: