“The cows must look after themselves
for I have work to do,”
said Ranald as he ran to search
for wandering Willie, the loon

Wild Willie had taken Davie
without even asking to,
along with his highland bagpipes
upon which he always blew

So Ranald, starting swift afoot
with his best friend at his side,
searched among the stunted trees
where Willie might just hide

Then as they went their stealthy way
droning bagpipes filled the air
and Ranald said with bated breath,
“Brother Davie might be there!”

So we slithered on without a noise
to catch him unaware
when a weary whimper reached our ears,
Yes, Dave was surely there!

Ever cautious we continued on,
still on our hands and knees;
we spied yon Willie play his pipes
while Davie cried his tears

We sneaked to Willie’s back and then
we pounced like one huge cat;
Ranald snatched his brother in his arms
while I upon Willie sat

Then I bopped mad Willie on the head
with his pipe of mournful tunes
and warned that piper to never again
act crazy like the loon!

* based on a little story by George MacDonald in chapter 13 of his book entitled Ronald Bannerman’s Boyhood