As the shapeless phantom mum’ling spak,
Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum!
O! had ye seen the bairns’ fricht,
As they stared at this wild and unyirthly wicht,
As they skulkit in ’tween the dark an’ the licht,
An’ graned out, Aiken-drum!
“Sauf us!” quoth Jock, “d’ye see sick e’en?”
Cries Kate, “There’s a hole where a nose should ha’ been;
An’ the mouth’s like a gash that a horn had ri’en;
Wow! keep’s frae Aiken-drum!”