Finally got round to copying 'MAGGIE LAUDER':

MAGGIE LAUDER

Upstair, doon the stair, I play my chanter rarely
And there you hug and kiss the girls I never want to marry (?)

Wha wadnae be in love with bonnie Maggie Lauder
A piper met her gaun tae Fife he asked what they called her
Right scornfully she answered him, Begone ye hallanshaker
Jog on your gate you blether skyte - my name is Maggie Lauder

Meg, says he, And by my bags I'm fidgin' fain to see thee
Sit doon by me, my bonnie bird, in troth I wouldnae steer thee
For I'm a piper tae my trade, my name is Rab the Ranter
The lassies loup as they were daft when I blaw up my chanter

Piper, says Meg, Ha'e ye your bags, is your drone in order
If you be Rab I've heard o' you, do you live on the border
The lasses a' baith far and near hae heard o' Rab the Ranter
I'll shake my foot wi' richt guidwill when you blaw up your chanter

Then tae his bags he flew with speed, aboot the drone he twisted
Meg up an' walloped o'er the green, for brawly could she frisk it
Weel done, says he, Weel played, says she, Weel bobbed, says Rab the Ranter
It's worth my while tae play indeed when I hae sic a dancer

Well hae you played your part, says Meg, Your cheeks they are like crimson
There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel since we lost Habbie Simpson
I've lived in Fife baith maid and wife these ten years and a quarter
The next time you're in Anst'er (?), just ask for Maggie Lauder

hallanshaker - tramp; blether skyte - windbag, gossip; steer thee- interfere with you; fidgin' - excited; loup - dance

This version comes from the Corries' 'Live in Scotland 1' (1974) which being lively as well as live, makes it hard to understand in places (see question marks). Maybe someone out there can help. This is the only version I know with a chorus, and I suspect they added it themselves to give the audience a chance to join in. If you can find Dick Gaughan's 'Kist o' Gold' (1977) listen to his superb version. - Susanne

Some more items from my ragbag collection:

[1900:] This is a song that has few equals in its class, and which, though more than 200 years old, is as potent today as when it fell fresh from the imagination of its author, Francis Sempill, the last of the rhyming Lairds of Beltrees. The Sempills of Beltrees, in Renfrewshire, were distinguished as poets when Scottish poets were few and obscure. [...]
Doubts, to be sure, have been thrown out as to Sempill being the author of Maggie Lauder at all. These are based on two grounds, the first being that the scene of the song belongs to Fifeshire; and the second, that the song, if as old as Sempill's day, would have appeared in Ramsay's "Tea-Table Miscellany", which it does not. In reply to these objections it may be said, in all fairness, that although the heroine, Maggie Lauder, professedly belonged to Anster (Anstruther), yet the scene of the song is not laid there, nor even in the county of that town, for in the very first verse we are told "A piper met her gaun to Fife." As to the song not appearing in the "Tea-Table Miscellany", that might arise from the same accident or oversight by which various other old and worthy songs are missing from that yet wonderfully comprehensive collection. Allan Ramsay was not infallible. Moreover, the allusion to Habbie Simpson in the last stanza should be admitted to favour the claim for Sempill being the author, for Simpson was a noted piper in Kilbarchan village, contiguous to the estate of Beltrees, and had already provoked the muse of the elder Sempill (Francis's father). But really in the present day there is no one who has any doubt about the authorship; and the honour, without contention, goes to Francis Sempill, at whose worthy credit it will doubtless remain.
If the identity of the author is fixed beyond reasonable cavil, not so, however, the personality of the heroine, which has long been a question of speculation among the antiquaries. There seems fairly good reason to believe that William de Anstruther, who occupied the Castle of Dreel, in this little Fifeshire town, in King Alexander's time, did bring home a wife named Lady Margaret Lauder from the opposite side of the Forth; but that this was the lady who shook her foot with "richt gude-will" to Rob the Ranter's piping is, to say the least, somewhat doubtful. Professor Tennant, in his elaborate poem of "Anster Fair", describes Maggie as a wealthy heiress, while Captain Charles Gray, in his sequel to the song, locates her in "a snug wee house in the East Green". Sir Robert Lauder of the Ross, the loyal Scottish cavalier, certainly had a sister who was celebrated as a dancer. More than that, she was celebrated for her bravery.
Sir Robert's farm and buildings where he stored his corn, being on the mainland at North Berwick, and his seed corn having at the time been laid up in sacks in his granary, Cromwell sent a party of his Ironsides to seize it for the use of his troops, then encamped near Dunbar. Sir Robert's servants, being too few in numbers to resist, came in great tribulation to tell Mistress Margaret, their master being away. Mistress Margaret, as the story goes, at once called for "a sharp knife and a strong flail". Having got these, she entered the granary; and after upbraiding the plundering Roundheads for their lawless proceedings, she ripped up all the sacks and scattered the corn, and then laid about her so lustily with the flail that the men took to flight and left their spoil. The character here revealed would perfectly agree with the Maggie Lauder of the song; but the connection has not been definitely established, and the real Maggie Lauder has yet to be discovered.
As regards the tune to which the song has always been sung, it is said to have been known in England by the name of Maggie Louther; and even the Irish have claimed its paternity, alleging that the Scots stole it from their minstrelsy, and put it to the base use of celebrating "a famous courtesan of Crail". But there is no proof that the air is not originally Scotch any more than the song itself. Certainly it was popular in London for a time, but that was not until nearly the middle of the last century, when it was sung in the "Quaker's Opera" performed at Bartholomew Fair in 1728, and was introduced into Gay's opera of "Achilles" produced in 1733.
Burns held the song in high esteem, and there never was a better judge of song-ware. "It is so pregnant with Scottish naiveté and energy," he says, "it is much relished by all ranks, notwithstanding its broad wit and palpable allusions. Its language is a precious model of imitation - sly, sprightly, and forcibly expressive. Maggie's tongue wags out the nicknames of Rob the Piper with all the careless lightsomeness of unrestrained gaiety." That is so. But here I am reminded of one other controversial point with regard to the song. Was it Maggie or the Piper that was "gaun to Fife"? Strange as it may appear to those who read with both eyes open, there has been more wind wasted in the endeavour to solve this problem (so-called) than would have kept the Ranter's drone bumming for a year and a day. The third line says in simple and unequivocal language - "A piper met her gaun to Fife", the only reasonable inference from which is that Maggie was "gaun to Fife"; yet that poor innocent, simple and natural sentence has been contorted and subjected to the most absurd punctuation and jerky declamation in order to prove that it was the piper, and not Maggie Lauder, who was going to Fife. Oh, the dullards! Even although the statement here had not been altogether clear and emphatic, they had only to read on to the last verse to have every doubt removed, when Maggie says:
Gin ye should come to Anster Fair
Speir ye for Maggie Lauder
The word come surely places the matter beyond dispute. [...] (Robert Ford, Song Histories 96ff)

[1962:] Francis Sempill had had attributed to him, in addition to Maggie Lauder, the roistering and outrageous song, The Blythsome Bridal. His authorship of both these songs has been disputed, mainly because it is based on the unconfirmed claims of his grandchildren. (Norman Buchan, 101 Scottish Folksongs 149)

[1977:] It always amuses me that this fairly obvious piece of symbolism managed to pass with flying colours the great purge of anything the slightest bit risqué which happened, especially in Scotland. (Notes Dick Gaughan, 'Kist o' Gold')

[1988:] Doubts of Sempill's authorship confirmed in William Donaldson, Jacobite Song 31