O why nae bardie blunts his quill,
To sing Craigunoch’s fragant hill,
Likewise Dumbuck where witches yell,
  May gie him scope;
For there ’tis said did fairies dwell,
  in mony a group.

This leads me on ‘mang ither blithers,
To tell a story o’ my mithers,
And though I’m in a thousand swithers
  About the mater,
It’s maybe just as true as ithers
  O’ sic a nature.

But whether it was on hallowe’en
The following wondrous sight was seen,
She coudna, ’twas sae lang since syne,
Just be exact;
But just she saw’t wi’ her twa een,
And ’twas a fact.

She said she saw, or thought she saw
Auld Satan sitting on a sow
Exactly ’neath the College bow;
While round it’s border
Were hundreds o’ his hellish crew
In marching order.

Their een were like red fiery rockets,
A’bleezing in their sair-sunk sockets,
Their bodies bare, baith breast and buttocks,
For ower their hurdies
They neither had wylie coat nor jackets
To co’er their burdies

When round this bow the group advancing,
L–d main sic walloping and prancing,
Sic fiddle diddling and dancing,
Wi’ gestures queer;
With scores of brimstones torches glancing,
Shin’d far and near.

But o’sae many odd-like beuks,
Sae many wild unwarldly leuks
inclose wi’ sic brisly puks
O’ sooty hair,
Might driv’n a minister till his beuks,
Yes, even to prayer.

Tho’ here and there at different places
The withes shew’d their earthly faces,
Them tho’ they tried to hide their b—s
  Wi’ Tattery duds,
Ye coul Hae seen in curious cases,
  Their bits o’ f—ds .

The fairies Mair comely to be seen, Were clad in gowns o’ gaudy green,
Each trig and braw like a new preen,
And a’ sae nimbly,
The needled grumphy’s legs between,
and march’d sae trimly.

This grumphy had a lang lean shak,
Nae signs o’ fatness on his flank,
But whether Scotch sow, Welsh, or mank,
Or Irish boar;
It seem’d it neither had ate or drank,
For months before.

Even tho’ a deil how could he do’t,
Ride on a clung and hungry brute;
Nae wonder then it hung its head,
and look’d sae sulky,
When scrimp’t o’ food, and stress’d to bute,
Wi’ ane sae bulky.

Tap o’ the arch, aboon them a’
There sat a curr as black’s a craw,
With ugsome looks and mouth a thraw,
It rais’d a clamour–
Then on droll intstruments did blaw
Some hellish yaumer.

But that dropp gaugeon ca’d the deil,
Must be a base ill-willie chiel,
Or else what pleasure could he feel
In sic like sporting;
Fearing foke that’s meaning weel
In social courting.

When pair and pair ahint the dyke,
Are tasting that baith sexes like,
Think ye the auld uncouthie byke
Was wish them parted;
Or does he gang to help the tyke
That’s maist faintheated.

Y’d thinkt he rover would require,
E’e seeing he’s scanty o’ attire,
To bide mair near his munckle fire
For sake o’ heat;
and no gang lounging ilka where,
To lie and cheat.

I’d hae him haunt some hallow dell, That’s mair convenient to himsel, Where he mair privately might drill His coomy legions, And no come just sae far a-field As our cauld regions.

Now least ye tak it an opression, The reading o’ my dire degression, I’ll lea’t to men wha by profession Misca’ auld nick – Least I be ta’en before the session For doing sic.

But losh I’m sure when auld fo’k kent it, Sic places were wi’ sic frequented, They might hae warn’d their youths anent it, aye to beware, No haeing them coming hame demented Frae sic a scar.

But let’s be thankfu’ for our mercies, That now sic banditti sae scarce is, langsyne we durstna turn our a–es Upon the light, But deils, in acting o’ their farces, Gaed us a fright.

Now let me gie taw words o’ prayer; O L–d of waters, earth and air, Keep rough spun rhymsters in thy care, Us fawty men; At present and for evermair, Amen, amen.