V.
Ho! yonder comes from the emptying town
A crowd of five thousand all rushing down;
They hurry, they scurry, they buzz, they brize,
And all to see this witch in a blaze.
Deep in the midst of the jubilant throng
A harmless woman is hurried along,—
She is weary, and wheezing for lack of breath,
And o'er all her face is the pallor of death;
And she says, as they push her, in grim despair,
"Ye needna hurry yoursel's sae sair—
Nae sport there will be till I am there."[A]
[Footnote A: These words are the old tradition which has been handed down in Dundee for generations.]