MAGGY LA.UTHER 
 
 To which are added, 
 
 The Pitcher, 
 Bonny Jean. 
 Yarrow braes. 
 
 I 
 
 ■A 
 
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 12 
 
 by w. macni* 
 
 .■ff 
 
 # r 
 
MAGGY L.1UTEER. 
 
 WHA wou'dea be in love 
 
 wi» bonny Maggy Lauther, 
 A piper met her gaun through Fife, 
 
 he ipeir^d whit was t they ca'd her ? 
 Bight scornfully she answer' d him, 
 
 begone you ballan-ahafeer, 
 Job your gate you blather*»kate, 
 
 my name u Mag?y Lauiher. 
 
 Maggy <fno* he, now by my bag*, 
 
 J»as fidg'ng fiin to §ee thee, 
 Sit down by me my bonny bird, 
 
 indeed I winna sieer thte : 
 f or Tm a piper to my trae'e 
 
 my name i* Hob the Ranter, 
 The laases loup as they were daft, 
 
 when I bhw up my chanter. 
 
 Piper, quo' Meg, hae ye your bags, 
 or is your drone in otter ? 
 
 Gif >e b<: Rob weVe heard or you, 
 live ye u jo* the border ? 
 
The kiatry *' baith fa* and teat, 
 hat heard of Rob the Raatar, 
 
 1 11 shake my foot wi* right good will, 
 gif ye'll braw up your chanter. 
 
 Then to his bags he flew with speed 9 
 
 and round the dro ,e he twisted, 
 Meg up and wallop' d o'er the greea* 
 
 for b rawly could she frisk it, 
 Well done quo* hr play up quo' she, 
 
 well bob'd quo' Rob the Raster, 
 Til wonh my while to pity, quo' he 9 
 
 when I get sic a dancer. 
 
 Well hae ye playM your part qu<* Meg, 
 
 your cheeks are like the crimson* 
 There's nane in Scotland plays like you. 
 
 ti ce we lost Habbie Simsoa : 
 lye HvM in Fifr baitli m*id and wife, 
 
 these ten years and a quarter, 
 Whea ye cprne there to Anst'er fair,. 
 
 speer ye for Maggy LaMther* 
 
 Th^a Rob he rou*M and took tha ?oad. 
 
 and round all Fife he ranted. 
 And piay'vi a spriig thro* Siller-dyk?? 
 
 as merry Meg he wanted s 
 And as he enter'd ijaaVer town, 
 
 his drone it lOuaded louder, 
 
4 
 
 His bags he felew till the chanter fiew, 
 no pipes wat ever prouder. 
 
 Then Meg came gigli^g to the door^ 
 
 and *aw her bairn father, 
 O misd Rot ye r , ye danrM wf me, 
 
 your bonny Ma.^gy La-uther I 
 Which makes me ?ue that day siasyrn^ 
 
 that e*er I heard* your chanter, 
 But now I hope you J j! marry me } 
 
 my bonny Rob the Ranter. 
 
 For when I danc*d, then you advanc' -3 4 
 
 and ye promis'd not to titer me, 
 Wae to the day I heard you play, 
 
 it K-ates the kintry jeer me, 
 But tince that ye will comfort gi'e* 
 
 I'm gi&d yc've come to see mc, 
 And from the scandle of the jigg, 
 
 in really you will fn»e me. 
 
 Fidler's wives an J gamester** drink, 
 
 is free to all who chuso them, 
 But if voifll be a piper's wife, 
 
 I'll gua d you in my bosons. 
 And while I live to bhw a blast, 
 
 you*ll wever be a wanter, 
 Since ys*u x r« so free to marry mCj 
 
 your bonny Rab the Ranter 
 
s 
 
 THE PITCHER 
 
 'S not yet day it's not yet day, 
 thee why ihotild wc lezvt j. ood liquo^ 
 'Till the sun beams around us play, 
 
 we'll sit and take the other pitcher^ 
 fhe silver moon she seines so bright, 
 
 she shines to bright — I swear by Natu?e 9 
 That if my mkut^-fclass goei rif,ht, 
 * weVe time to dtiuk the other pitcher. 
 It's not yet day, &c 
 
 They tell me if I'd work all day, 
 
 and fleep by night I'd grow the richer, 
 But what it all thU world's delight, 
 
 compar'd with mirth, my friend & pkchef* 
 It's not yet day, it's not yet day, 
 
 then why should we leave good liquor, 
 Till the sun beams about us play, 
 
 we'll sit an J take the other pitcher. 
 It's not yet day. &c* 
 
 They tell me Tom has got a wife, 
 whese portion will make him the richer, 
 
 I envy not his happy life., 
 gitfe rae good health, my friend & pitcher 
 
6 
 
 It' j not yet day it'* not yet day, 
 then why should we leave good liquor. 
 
 Till the sun be*m« • round us pla>, 
 we'll sit and tak. the other pitchor ? 
 It's lot yet d.iy «&c 
 
 OF A' THE AiRTS THE WIN© CAN BU 
 
 Of a 9 the aim the wind can blaw, 
 
 I desrl like thr west* 
 For there the bo ni la^s e Uvea, 
 
 The lass that I loo bes< 
 TW vrite woods grow an' river* row, 
 
 Wi s rnonie a hill between* 
 Baith day and toi^fct My fancy** flight, 
 
 Is ever wi' my Jean. 
 
 I see h*? in the dewy flow'r, 
 
 Sae levely » weet and f«dr * 
 i hear her voit* in ilka bird, 
 
 * hear her charm the at;- ; 
 There's not a bonny ftow*r that springs, 
 
 fiy fountain, shaw or green s 
 Nor yet a bonny biri thvt sisgs, 
 
 But minda me o' my Jean, 
 
(Jpon the banks of flowing Cly de, 
 
 The lassie busk them b. aw, 
 fat when their b -st they bae put on s 
 
 My Jeanie dings them %% 
 In hamely wee«ls she far exceeds, 
 
 Tho fairest o' the town ; 
 Baith grave ani gay confesi It sae, 
 
 Tho' drest k russet gown. 
 
 The gamesome lamb that sucks it's dam, 
 
 Mair harmltaa canna be % 
 She has nat faut (if sic we ca't,) 
 
 Except her love for me, 
 The sparkling dew, of clearest ha?, 
 
 Is like her shining een ; 
 In shape an' air wha can compare, 
 
 Wi' my sweet lovely Jean, 
 
 O bla*r. ye westlin winds blaw taffc, 
 
 Amaag the leafy treas ; 
 Wi y gentle breath frae muir and dale* 
 
 -Bring hame the laden beet, 
 An' bring the lassie back to me, 
 
 That's aye sae neat and clean : 
 Ae blink o' her wad banish care, 
 
 Sae lovely h ray Jean, 
 
YARROW BJIAES. 
 
 I ^heam'p a dreary dream last night, 
 
 God keep us free from sorrow ; 
 I dream'd I pou'd the birks sae green, 
 j Wi* my true love on Yarrow. 
 
 V\l read your dream my sister dear, 
 
 Fll tejl you all your sorrow ; 
 You pau'd the birks wi ? your true Io?e, 
 he's kill'4, he's, kill'd on Yarrow, 
 
 .Q gentle wind that blaweth south. 
 
 To where my loye repaireth, 
 Convey a kiss from his dear mouthy 
 And tell me how he faretli, 
 
 | Sijt s'er yon gkfl paw? arnfd men, 
 
 I Have wrought him dule and sorrow, 
 
 !• * ■ fhey'ye slain, $heyVe slain the eomlies* sw;yn, 
 
 Hp bleeding lies In Yarrow* 
 
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