This is a whimsy; just a story that came into my mind one day and had to be written. I’m Scottish, so it’s not a racist joke. Enjoy it.
One day Fergus Reeve the most famous cattle thief of his day other than Rob Roy McGregor was pechin’ up a hill with a stolen sheep under his arm and about twenty angry English farmers at his back. Fergus was a good hill-runner and was known for the funny way he ran with his arms pumpin’ as if pumpin’ the breath into his lungs to get him up the steep hill slopes. In spite of the sheep obstructing his elbows he was trying to use the same method and was keeping a good distance ahead of his pursuers. The sheep didn’t appreciate it and its cries and unearthly wails of distress set up a racket that could be heard for miles around.
Fergus just kept running and the farmers just kept running after him and the noise brought more running from all the English farms nearby.
Coming to the crest of the mount Fergus grinned broadly to see his clansmen and a lot of neighbours near the hilltop, claymores at the ready, and he yelled to them ‘The Sassenachs are at ma back. Let’s get them!’ and they all charged over the hill to descend on the surprised English farmers and send them homeward.
That night Fergus sat by the fireside eating rabbit and cuddlin’ his sheep. ‘Ye saved ma life ye bonny wee thing,’ he said fondly. ‘Ah’ve never heard such beautiful music in a’ ma life. Ye’ve given me an idea.’ He pulled a penny whistle out of his sporran, turned the sheep upside down with its four legs in the air, stuck the whistle in the sheep’s gub and began to blow. Before long loud groaning noises were coming from the sheep and admiring clansmen were gathering to listen.
Since that day, Scotsmen have been drawn towards the sound of the bagpipes and Englishmen have fled in terror from it.