There sat auld Nick, in shape o’ beast;
A touzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge;
He screw’d the pipes, and gart them skirl,
Till roof and rafters a’ did dirl—
Coffins stood round like open presses,
That shaw’d the dead in their last dresses;
And, by some devilish cantrip slight,
Each in its cauld hand held a light—
By which heroic Tam was able