And near the thorn, aboon the well,
Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel,
Before him Doon pours all his floods;
The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;
The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
Near and more near the thunders roll;
When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze; blaze
Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; chink
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.