They saw him coming from afar. His feet were massive and his paws fearsome, His suit remained sharp and he still wore that supercilious face that they found infuriating. He was humming a tune and it was then that the Wabbit had an idea. He plucked from his fur a set of old bagpipes he's got from his uncle the Chief of Galloway. Lapinette plucked out a tambourine she'd borrowed from the Corries (and never given back). The Wabbit started to play the
Deil's awa' wae the Exciseman. The tambourine rattled out a beat. The Devil's eyes became glazed, but his head moved back and forward. His toes curled as he marched. He strode past the Wabbit and far into the sea. The Wabbit watched as he walked forward and gradually submerged under the waves. Finally the water claimed him. It closed over his head with hardly a ripple. The Wabbit let the pipe tune die. Lapinette's tambourine gave a last rattle. "Is he gone?" asked Lapinette. "He's never really gone," replied the Wabbit. "I rather liked his suit." Lapinette was pensive. "The Devil has the best of everything," responded the Wabbit. He tucked the bagpipes away and dusted his paws. "I don't think Davy's Jones Locker will hold him for long." He sighed. "What about a drink?" Lapinette pointed and smashed the tambourine against her leg. "I saw a caffe across there." "It looked closed," said the Wabbit, "but we could open it, leave the money." Then paw in paw, they made their way across the melancholy island.
