An’, frae her cot, wi’ wrathfu’ stride,
I fled to face the midnicht w’ather.
An’ back I took my darksome way,
By gerse-grown dykes an’ resh-rouch heid rigs;
By spretty knowe an’ staney brae,
An’, sair forfowch’en, wan to Stidriggs,
Where, hingin’ up the borrow’t plaid,
An’ owre my queer mischanter smilin’,
I took my share o’ ae box-bed,
But couldna sleep for thochte’s beguilin’.