Och sicken cryis war neuir hearit

Atwene the yerde and heuin!

They sawe him spurryng in the ayre,

And flynging horredlye,

And than he prayit and sang ane saum,

For ane fearit wycht was he;

But ay his waylingis fainter greue

As the braide lyft he crossit,

Quhill sum saide that theye hearit them still,

And sum saide all wase loste.