If you be Rob I’ve heard of you,
Live you upon the border?
The lasses a’ baith far and near,
Hae heard of Rob the Ranter;
I'll shake my foot wi' right good-will.
Gif you’ll blaw up your chanter.
Then to his bags he flew wi’ speed,
About the drone he twisted;
Meg up and wallop'd o’er the green,
For brawly could she frisk 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, quoth Meg,
Your cheeks are like the crimson;
There’s nane in Scotland plays sae weel.
Since we lost Habby Simpson.
I’ve liv’d in Fife, baith maid and wife,
These ten years and a quarter;
Gin you should come to Anster fair,
Spier ye for Maggie Lauder.
The cantie spring scarce rear’d her head,
And winter yet did blaud her,
When the Ranter cam to Anster fair,
And spier’d for Maggy Lauder;
A snug wee house in the East Green,
Its shelter kindly lent her;
