Ye like a rash-buss stood in sight clump of rushes
Wi' waving sough. moan
The cudgel in my nieve did shake, fist
Each bristled hair stood like a stake,
When wi' an eldritch stoor ‘quaick, quaick,’ weird, harsh
Amang the springs,
Awa ye squatter'd like a drake
On whistlin' wings.
Let warlocks grim an' wither'd hags
Tell how wi' you on ragweed nags ragwort