An’ t’ neybors aboot settlet doon to t’ belief
’At her cat was a divil an’ she was a witch.
An’ they said, “Let us swum her i’ t’ tarn,” an’ they dud;
She swom a lāl bit, an’ than droon’t like a rat,
An’ t’ cat aboot t’ spot swom as lang as it cūd;
An’ finish’t at last was Keàte Cūrbison’ cat.
NOTE.
I remember reading somewhere the story of one of the many old women so treated, in the wisdom of our ancestors, who was drowned while undergoing the common ordeal of being bound and thrown into deep water—and her cat, supposed to be her familiar spirit, swimming in circles over the place where she sank till it became exhausted and was also drowned. A story which made a lasting impression on my young imagination.