Day's work, man! you talk about playing on your fiddle as a cobler would do about mending of shoes. No, no! we'll do the thing decently and creditably.
HURDY GURDY-MAN.
Suppose we do give her de little chanson d'amour?
PIPER.
Song a moor! what's that?
HURDY-GURDY-MAN.
I do play it very pretty on my hurdy-gurdy.
PIPER.
Ay, you may play it well enough, perhaps, for your Italian foreigners, or sick like, that don't know any better; but any body that has been in Lochaber, good troth! would count it no better than jargon, man.
HURDY-GURDY-MAN.
But I do say when de peoples of my country hear your pipe, dey do so. (Stopping his ears, and mimicking one who runs away.) And I do say dat I play more better music dan you, one, two, ten, twenty times over.
