Ralph:
Grannie, what’s that?
Judith:
Only an owl, son.
Nicholas:
Bo!
Fearent of hoolets!
Ralph:
I thought it was a bo-lo.
Nicholas:
Bo-los or horneys or wirrakows can’t scare me:
And I like to hear the jinneyhoolets scritching:
It gives me such a queer, cold, creepy feeling.
I like to feel the shivers in my hair.
When I’m a man I’ll ride the fells by moonlight,
Like the mosstroopers, when the owls are skirling.
They used to gallop on their galloways,
The reivers, dad says ...