They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags
Wi' wicked speed;
And in kirk-yards renew their leagues
Owre howkit dead. disturbed
Thence country wives, wi' toil an' pain,
May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain; churn
For oh! the yellow treasure's taen i.e., the butter
By witchin' skill;
An' dawtit, twal-pint Hawkie's gane petted, twelve-pint cow
As yell's the bill. dry, bull