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I gang to buy a snish tamback,
And standing at the corse,
And tere I saw a dead man
Was riding on his horse.
And O! he be a poor man,
And no hae mony claes,
Te brogues be worn aff his feet,
And me see a' his taes.
Te horse had up his mukle fit
For to gie me a slap,
And gapping wi' his great mouth
To grip me by the tap.
He had a staff into his hand,
To fight me if he could,
But hersel he rin awa frao him,
His horse be unco proud:
For I be rin around about,
And stand about the guard,
Where I saw the diel chap the hours,
Then me grew unco feared.
Ohon! Ohon! her nainsel said,
And whare will me go rin?
For yonder be the black man
burns the fouk for sin..
I'll no be stay nae langer tere,
