WEE PIPER'S LETTER. 135 



Here's milk an' here's meal, an' braxie as weel, 



And the Laird is a gallant f oxhunter ; 

 Here's horses an' hun's an' cudgels an' guns, 



Sae I'm safe frae Black Sandy this wunter. 

 I heard the Laird swear, if Sandy comes here, 



He shall rue that he ever left Eiddle, 

 For he'll lowse every hun', and he'll bet fifty pun', 



That he never mair crosses the Liddel. 



An' Willie, my man, I've fixt on a plan, 



And I'll tell ye my mind in a blinkin', 

 I ken o' a ploy that'll suit ye, my boy, 



An' monie mair tae, I'm thinkin'. 

 We'll raise a' the hun's an' ilk tyke that runs, 



An' a' the yauld hunters, my mannie, 

 Bouse Liddel an' Heed, an' a' the Tyne-head, 



An' we'll hae a graun' huntin' wi' Sawnie. 



House a' swoft o' fit bring Jock, Gead, an' Mitt, 



An' Bowman, an' Ned, an' the Pether ; 

 To the fun an' the din the Daggs '11 a' rin' 



Like bucks spankin' ower the heather. 

 Seek the Skinner an' Jim, an' Larry, bring him, 



" Let the day be a regular fielder;"* 

 Seek Wull-o'-the-Haw, an' Wannie an' a', 



An' we'll hunt Sandy oot o' the Kielder. 



* Quotation from Mr Milburn. 



