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! quo' he-play up! quo' she;
Weel bobb'd! quo' Rob the Ranter;
'Tis worth my while to play indeed,
When I hae sic a dancer.

Weel hae ye play'd your part, quo' Meg,
Your cheeks are like the crimson;

There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel,
Since we lost Habbie Simpson.*

the Editor, that when a boy (not more than twenty years ago) he was greatly struck with the sight of many of these old Highland Pipers, straying, solitary, from parish to parish, reciting the deeds of the clans.

In every parish there were houses which the open-heartedness – of their possessors made welcome nightly habitations to these vagrant remnants of ancient chivalry. The piper's arrival spread like wild-fire among the little country villages. The old decayed men, the lads and lasses, with their rocks and knitting apparatus, flocked around the old piper, who, seated next the gudeman, on the lang-settle, in the intervals of his tunes touched on the tales of other times. The barbarity of William, in the vale of Glencoe; the Rade of Mar; or the year 1715; and the awful sufferings of misguided Catholic loyalty in 1745, were told with the exquisite mastery of native eloquence.

* The celebrated Piper of Kilbarchan.

I've liv'd in Fife, baith maid and wife,
These ten years and a quarter;
Gin' ye should come to Enster Fair,
Speir ye for Maggie Lauder.

TRANENT-MUIR.

Tune-GILLICRANKIE.

“ TRANENT-MUIR" was composed by a Mr. Skirvin, a very worthy respectable farmer, near Haddington. I have heard the anecdote often, that Lieut. Smith, whom he mentions in the ninth stanza, came to Haddington after the publication of the song, and sent a challenge to Skirvin to meet him at Haddington, and answer for the unworthy manner in which he had noticed him in his song.

Gang awa back," said the honest farmer, “and tell Mr. Smith that I hae na leisure to come to Haddington; but tell him to come here; and I'll tak a look o' him; and if I think I'm fit to fecht him, I'll fecht him; and if no-I'll do as he did, I'll rin awa."

TRANENT MUIR.*

The Chevalier, being void of fear,
Did march up Birsle brae, man,
And thro' Tranent, e'er he did stent,
As fast as he could gae, man:
While general Cope did taunt and mock,
Wi' mony a loud huzza, man;
But e'er next morn proclaim'd the cock,
We heard another craw, man.

The brave Lochiel,+ as I heard tell,
Led Camerons on in clouds, man;

The morning fair, and clear the air,
They loos'd with devilish thuds, man:

* A field of battle, better known by the name of Prestonpans, where prince Charles Stewart, commonly called the Young Chevalier, at the head of his Highland army, completely routed the English forces, under the command of Sir John Cope, who was afterward tryed by a court-martial for his conduct in this battle, and acquitted. He is said to have left the field in such haste that he never once stopped his horse, nor looked back, till he got to Haddington, which is seven or eight miles off. This action happened Sep. 22, 1745.

+ Printed from Ritson's copy.

‡ Donald Cameron of Lochiel, chief of the Clan Cameron, gentleman of great bravery, and of the most amiable disposi

tion.

Down guns they threw, and swords they drew,
And soon did chace them aff, man;
On Seaton-Crafts they buft their chafts,
And gart them rin like daft, man.

The bluff dragoons swore blood and 'oons,
They'd make the rebels run, man;
And yet they flee when them they see,
And winna fire a gun, man:

They turn'd their back, the foot they brake,
Such terror seiz'd them a', man;

Some wet their cheeks, some fyl'd their breeks,
And some for fear did fa', man.

The volunteers prick'd up their ears,
And vow gin they were crouse, man;
But when the bairns saw't turn to earn'st,
They were not worth a louse, man;
Maist feck gade hame; O fy for shame!
They'd better stay'd awa', man,

Than wi' cockade to make parade,
And do nae good at a', man.

tion. He was wounded at the battle of Culloden, and died in France colonel of a regiment, which his grateful master had procured him, as a small reward and compensation for his great services and misfortunes, ..... 1748.

Menteith the great, when hersell sh-t,
Un'wares did ding him o'er, man;

Yet wad nae stand to bear a hand,
But aff fou fast did scour, man;
O'er Soutra hill, e'er he stood still,
Before he tasted meat, man :
Troth he may brag of his swift nag,
That bare him aff sae fleet, man.

And Simpson+ keen, to clear the een
Of rebels far in wrang, man,
Did never strive wi' pistols five,

But gallop'd with the thrang, man:
He turn'd his back, and in a crack
Was cleanly out of sight, man;
And thought it best; it was nae jest
Wi' Highlanders to fight, man.

'Mangst a' the gang nane bade the bang
But twa, and ane was tane, man;

* The minister of Longformacus, a volunteer; who, happening to come the night before the battle, upon a Highland gelding, easing nature at Preston, threw him over, and carried his gun as a trophy to Cope's camp.

+ Another volunteer Presbyterian minister, who said he would convince the rebels of their error by the dint of his pistols'; having, for that purpose, two in his pockets, two in his holsters, and one in his belt.