THE RAID. 207 



When he gets righted he begins, 

 And aye the ither cast he flings ; 

 Up jumps a trout, and he him brings- 



Guid faith, there's two — 

 Come, Robert lad, be on your pins, 



And land them, do. 



He lands them both and gives a cheer, 

 Venator says, "Now just look here, 

 I've seen my fish fast disappear 



In Cory's creel ; 

 I'll no hae that, not me, no fear !" 



He oot did squeal. 



Peter was gettin' on gey weel. 

 An' mony a gran' fish he did creel, 

 Till ae' great big ane made a wheel, 



And drew him in. 

 Alas ! poor Peter's fate to seal — 



He couldna swim. 



Poor Peter thocht his race was run, 

 His awfu' hinner en' was come ; 

 Till " Genoch " saw it was past fun, 



An' drew him oot ; 

 But was obleeg't to cry " Come, Come, 



Let sfo the'troot." 



