When twilight did my grannie summon
To say her prayers, douce honest woman!
Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin'
Wi' eerie drone;
Or, rustlin', thro' the boortrees comin',
Wi' heavy groan.
Ae dreary, windy, winter night,
The stars shot down wi' sklentin' light,
Wi' you, mysel', I got a fright,
Ayont the lough;
Ye, like a rash-bush stood in sight,
Wi' waving sough.
The cudgel in my nieve did shake,
Each bristled hair stood like a stake,
When wi' an eldritch stour, quaick—quaick—
Amang the springs,
Awa ye squatter'd like a drake,
On whistling wings.
Let warlocks grim, and wither'd hags,
Tell how wi' you on ragweed nags,
They skim the muirs, and dizzy crags,
Wi' wicked speed;
And in kirk-yards renew their leagues
Owre howkit dead.
Thence countra wives, wi' toil an' pain,
May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain;
For oh! the yellow treasure's ta'en
By witching skill;
An' dawtet, twal-pint Hawkie's gaen
As yell's the bill.
Then mystic knots mak great abuse,
On young guidman, fond, keen, and crouse,
When the best wark-lume i' the house,
By cantrip wit,
Is instant made no worth a louse,
Just at the bit.
When thaws dissolve the snawy hoord,
An' float the jinglin' icy-boord,
Then water-kelpies haunt the foord,
By your direction,
An' 'nighted trav'llers are allured
To their destruction.
An' aft your moss-traversing spunkies
Decoy the wight that late and drunk is;
The bleezin', curst, mischievous monkeys
Delude his eyes,
Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
Ne'er mair to rise.
When masons' mystic word an' grip
In storms an' tempests raise you up,
Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,
Or, strange to tell,
The youngest brother ye wad whip
Aff straught to hell!
Lang syne, in Eden's bonnie yaird,
When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd,
An' a' the soul of love they shared,
The raptured hour,
Sweet on the fragrant flowery swaird
In shady bower!