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was a gilpey then, I’m sure young girl
130 I was na past fyfteen: not
The Simmer had been cauld an’ wat, summer, cold, wet
An’ Stuff was unco green; corn
An’ ay a rantan Kirn we gat, rollicking, harvest, got
An’ just on Halloween
135 It fell that night.
‘Our stibble-rig was Rab M’Graen, leader of the reapers
A clever, sturdy fallow; fellow
His Sin gat Eppie Sim wi’ wean, son, got, child
That lived in Achmachalla:
140 He gat hemp-seed,10 I mind it weel, got, well
An’ he made unco light o’t;
But monie a day was by himsel, many
He was sae sairly frighted so sorely
That vera night.’
145 Then up gat fechtan Jamie Fleck, got fighting
An’ he swoor by his conscience, swore
That he could saw hemp-seed a peck; sow
For it was a’ but nonsense:
The auld guidman raught down the pock, old good-, reached, bag
150 An’ out a handfu’ gied him; gave
Syne bad him slip frae ’mang the folk, then, bade, from
Sometime when nae ane see’d him, no one, sees
An’ try’t that night.
He marches thro’ amang the stacks, among
155 Tho’ he was something sturtan; staggering
The graip he for a harrow taks, garden-fork
And haurls at his curpan; drags, rear
And ev’ry now and then, he says,
‘Hemp-seed I saw thee, sow
160 An’ her that is to be my lass
Come after me, an’ draw thee
As fast this night.’
He whistl’d up Lord Lenox’ March,
To keep his courage cheery;
165 Altho’ his hair began to arch, stand with fear
He was sae fley’d an’ eerie; so frightened
Till presently he hears a squeak,
An’ then a grane an’ gruntle; groan, grunt
He by his shouther gae a keek, shoulder gives, look
170 An’ tumbl’d wi’ a wintle somersault
Out-owre that night. over
He roar’d a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu’ desperation!
An’ young an’ auld come rinnan out, old, running
175 An’ hear the sad narration:
He swoor ‘twas hilchin Jean M’Craw, halting
Or crouchie Merran Humphie — hunchback
Till stop! she trotted thro’ them a’;
An’ wha was it but Grumphie who, the pig
180 Asteer that night? moving about
Meg fain wad to the Barn gaen, content, would have gone
To winn three wechts o’ naething;11 dry corn, baskets, nothing
But for to meet the Deil her lane, all alone
She pat but little faith in: put
185 She gies the herd a pickle nits, gives, shepherd, few
An’ twa red-cheeket apples, two, -cheeked
To watch, while for the Barn she sets, goes
In hopes to see Tam Kipples
That vera night. very
190 She turns the key wi’ cannie thraw, gentle, twist
An’ owre the threshold ventures; over
But first on Sawnie gies a ca’, Satan, gives, call
Syne bauldly in she enters: once boldly
A ratton rattl’d up the wa’, rat, wall
195 An’ she cry’d, Lord preserve her!
An’ ran thro’ midden-hole an’ a’, dung-hole
An’ pray’d wi’ zeal and fervour
Fu’ fast that night.
They hoy’t out Will, wi’ sair advice; urged, sore
200 They hecht him some fine braw ane; promised, fine one
It chane’d the Stack he faddom’t thrice,12 fathomed
Was timmer-propt for thrawin: wood stacked, support
He taks a swirlie, auld moss-oak twisted, old
For some black gruesome Carlin; old hag
205 An’ loot a winze, an’ drew a stroke, cursed, swiped
Till skin in blypes cam haurlin shreds, peeling
Aff’s nieves that night. off his fists
A wanton widow Leezie was,
As cantie as a kittlen; lively, kitten
210 But Och! that night, amang the shaws, among, large leaves & branches
She gat a fearfu’ settlin! got, severely unsettled
She thro’ the whins, an’ by the cairn, gorse bushes
An’ owre the hill gaed scrievin; over, went careering
Whare three Lairds’ lands met at a burn,13 where
215 To dip her left sark-sleeve in shirt-
Was bent that night.
Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, whiles over, waterfall, burns falls
As thro’ the glen it wimpl’t; meandered
Wyles round a rocky scaur it strays, jutting rocky edge
220 Whyles in a wiel it dimpl’t; whiles eddy
Whyles glitter’d to the nightly rays, reflected
Wi’ bickerin, dancin dazzle; running fast
Whyles cookit underneath the braes, whiles hid
Below the spreading hazel
225 Unseen that night.
Amang the brachens, on the brae, ferns, hillside
Between her an’ the moon,
The Deil, or else an outler Quey, stray young cow
Gat up an’ gae a croon: got, gave, moan
230 Poor Leezie’s heart maist lap the hool; almost leaped, sheath
Near lav’rock-height